Spectrum
by ladycobert
Summary: How will Cora's pregnancy affect the family? Their marriage? Sequel to Heartlines.
1. Prologue: Every color will illuminate

7 November 1921

"What do you think they'll say?"

The sunset painted an entire spectrum of color in broad strokes across the windows of the house, with the house itself becoming a luminous shade of gold as the Earl and Countess of Grantham climbed out of the car and approached the front door. Cora took a firmer grasp on Robert's arm, feeling some of her earlier nervousness return.

Robert paused just outside the door and turned to her. "I honestly don't know, Cora." He lifted a gloved hand and touched her face. It glowed, radiant with the light cast by the sliver of sun left on the horizon, but it shone yet more because of the news they brought home with them. Giving her a tender look, he caressed her cheek. "All I know is that I'm so happy that if I tried right now, I could probably fly."

The anxious crease that had formed between her brows smoothed, and a smile brightened her countenance still more. "Then that will be my anchor tonight. That and my own happiness."

Mirroring her smile, Robert pressed a kiss to her cheek before continuing on into the house.

Carson took their coats and hats in the foyer. No one else appeared to greet them, but Robert was actually glad for that.

"I'll go upstairs and see Sybbie. And you –"

Robert sat on the chair beside the telephone. "I'll take care of the rest and meet you upstairs well before the dressing gong."

Cora nodded, smiling at him and turning to go. Robert dismissed Carson and requested that he not be disturbed.

* * *

When Robert entered the bedroom a little while later, he found Cora rummaging through her armoire. She twisted her head a bit to look at him when she heard the door shut, calling to him brightly. "Well? Will they be here?"

Robert sat down on a chair and chuckled. "Isobel presented no problem. She said she would be very happy to join us for dinner, even on such short notice." He thought a moment before adding, "I believe she gets lonely, Cora, being at Crawley House by herself. Especially now that Mary and Matthew are in Newport. We really should invite her over more often."

Cora pulled a rose-colored frock out of the armoire and held it up in front of herself, examining her reflection in the full-length mirror. "I've never known you to be so concerned about Isobel before, Robert," she said.

He shrugged and loosened his tie. "I guess I've had a lot of time to think about things – of many things – lately."

Going back over to the armoire, having decided against the dress she held, she continued to rummage. "And your mother? For dinner?"

Robert shook himself inwardly. "I'm sorry, darling. My mind keeps wandering. Of course, Mama presented more of a challenge. She said she was already here for dinner last night, and she thought that it was rude of me to ask her this late."

"But she's coming?" Cora did the same thing as before with a different dress, a brown one this time, scrunching up her face as she studied the affect.

"Yes, she's coming. After all that, she told me she'd telephoned Carson earlier today and informed _him_ she'd be joining us for dinner."

Cora rolled her eyes. "I suppose it slipped Carson's mind to tell you that before you telephoned her?"

Robert shrugged again. "I suppose it did. I dismissed him rather abruptly, to be fair."

"And the telegrams?"

Nodding, Robert replied, "I had Alfred go into the village to send them straight away. One to Newport for Mary, Matthew, and your mother, and one to London for Rosamund." He leaned back more comfortably in his chair, watching her curiously. "What are you doing?"

Sighing softly, Cora spun around to face him. "I'm trying to find a dress that fits and that your mother won't disparage too much. It's a difficult task. Although I don't have too many choices left. I told Mrs. Hughes to send Anna up at the dressing gong, and she can help me make a decision about – Robert, what are you doing?"

Her husband had left his chair and crossed the room, and he was now extracting the dress from her hands and flinging it across the bed. Sliding his arms around her waist, he clasped her to him, his heart giving a leap when she rested her hands on his chest and looked up into his face with her cornflower blue eyes. "No matter what you wear, sweetheart, you will be beautiful. You _are_ beautiful."

A blush stained Cora's cheeks red. One of her hands glided over his shoulder and up the back of his neck to stroke his silvery locks gently with her fingers. "As long as you think so, my darling."

Robert leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I know so." He nipped at her earlobe lightly before pulling back enough to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

Just as Cora was about to push Robert's jacket off his shoulders, the dressing gong sounded. Breaking the kiss reluctantly, she ran a finger along his jaw. "Perhaps we can continue that later. Anna and Bates will be up in a moment."

With a tiny sigh, Robert held her a bit tighter. "I actually wanted to talk to you about –"

A knock at the door cut him off. "Your ladyship? It's Anna."

Robert stepped back from Cora with a kiss on the cheek. "Well, we'll talk about that later. Tonight is for celebrating." Grinning at her, he disappeared into his dressing room while Cora called out to Anna to enter.

* * *

When Robert was nearly dressed, a footman came up with a message that the Dowager Countess had arrived. Deciding that he should probably go down as soon as possible, he knocked on his wife's door once Bates had gone. "Cora, are you ready?" he called through.

"No, darling. Not yet."

"Mama is here already, so I'm going to go ahead down, if that's fine by you."

"Yes, of course. I'll be just behind you, Robert."

"Alright, my dear," he responded.

Upon entering the drawing room, Robert found his mother sitting there, Edith beside her. Edith rose immediately and came up to him, putting her hand in his. "Papa, is Mama alright? What did the doctor say?"

Robert patted her hand. "Edith, everything will be fine." He gave her a smile and a kiss on the cheek. "Mama, I trust you're well?"

Violet, resplendent as ever in a silk dress in a deep shade of eggplant, pursed her lips together before saying, "I would do better with a drink, Robert, as I have a feeling you and Cora have some sort of news."

"Well, just as you ask, Mama." Robert indicated Carson, who brought a laden trolley into the room, followed by Isobel.

"Champagne?" Isobel asked, sitting on a chair and looking thoroughly intrigued – as well as happy. "What's the occasion?"

The three women turned expectant looks upon Robert. "What?" he asked. "We can't have champagne before dinner without there being some special reason?"

Violet fixed Robert with a hard stare. "No."

Tom walked through the door as Carson poured glasses of champagne and Jimmy served them. Taking the glass offered him and extending a hand to Robert in greeting, Tom inquired, "What's the occasion?"

Robert sighed and rolled his eyes. He was saved by the advent of his wife. And, for a moment, he forgot all the others in the room. Evidently, she and Anna were successful in the search through the armoire, because she wore an emerald green dinner dress, one he could barely remember. He stood there, gazing at her, at the little smile affixed to her mouth that he knew was just for him. Soon she was blushing under his intense regard, lowering her lashes, and it quite took his breath away.

His mother's voice broke though to him as Cora glided around the room to greet the others. "Now, that we're all assembled, might one of you tell us what this is all about?" She threw a piercing look at her son. "And don't stand there and tell me it is nothing, Robert Crawley."

"I wasn't about to, Mama." Robert waited until everyone else was seated with their glasses of champagne. He stood next to where Cora sat on the settee, looking down at her as he took her hand. Her eyes shone as she smiled at him, giving him a small nod. After smiling in return, he turned his attention to everyone else.

"Most of you know that Cora and I went to a doctor in London today because she hasn't been feeling quite well lately." Robert waited a moment, then went on, his heart pounding now as he looked around at the others. "The good news is that she isn't ill." He began to grin, holding Cora's hand even tighter. Taking a deep breath, he said, "And the even better news is that in about six months we'll be welcoming a new Crawley into the family."

For a long moment all the sound in the room seemed to have disappeared into a black hole.

Edith moved forward on the settee. "Papa, do you mean…?" She looked incredulous, stunned – a look shared by everyone else in the room.

Meeting her eyes, still smiling, he nodded.

Cora squeezed his hand again. "Yes, I'm having a baby."

Another silence settled over the room while their family took this in. It was broken when Isobel lifted her glass. "Well, I say congratulations, Cora and Robert. A new life is a reason to celebrate indeed." She smiled warmly at them both.

Giving her a grateful glance, Robert lifted his own glass, Cora following suit. "A toast to our family – and a new addition to it," Robert said in ringing tones, his chest expanding with renewed glee.

All of them drank of the champagne – Cora only having a small sip before putting her glass down, everyone else having a much longer drink. Robert sat next to his wife, having done his duty in making the announcement. He looked at her, his face full of elation, lifting her hand to his and kissing it. Cora sighed contentedly, beaming at him.

Neither seemed to mind that dinner was a quiet affair, the diners largely keeping their own council. Buoyed by their own happiness, Robert and Cora gazed at each other between bites. If the others weren't quite ready to rejoice in the news with them, it didn't matter. They wouldn't let the rest of their family keep them from celebrating it themselves.


	2. Yellow

Cora flopped unceremoniously upon a chair, once she and Robert reached their bedroom after dinner with the family.

Sighing, she remarked, "Robert, is it just me, or did it seem very quiet this evening?"

Robert came up to her chair and took her hand between both of his, caressing the back of it lightly. "Cora, never mind that. I believe they were stunned. I'm sure we'll hear plenty from everyone in the next few days as they get used to the news." He looked at her with a smile. "And as _we_ get used to the news."

She smiled back up at him wearily. "Yes, it's been quite a day, hasn't it?" Cora paused before asking, "Is Bates waiting for you next door?"

"No, darling. I told him not to come up until I rang for him. I wanted to make sure you were settled first." He brought her hand to his lips to kiss it, keeping his eyes on hers.

"You take such good care of me, Robert."

Robert knelt down in front of her chair, seeing the fatigue etched upon her face. He touched her cheek. "You mentioned on the way home that you might want a bath tonight. Since you didn't get a proper one this morning. Do you want me to ring for Anna? Or will you let me help you tonight?"

Cora could read clearly in his expression that he wanted her to choose the latter option. Smiling, she said, "I'd like you to help me, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course it's not. Anything for the exquisite creature sitting before me who is carrying my child." He grinned as his words made her blush. "Let me go turn on the water, and I'll be back." Kissing her cheek as he stood, he disappeared into the washroom.

The long day of travel and news and the family dinner had certainly worn upon Cora. While she was still ecstatic over the baby, she was also exhausted. She stood and went over to her dressing table. She began taking off her jewelry. Robert came up behind her and carefully plucked the decorative combs from her hair. She could hear the water filling the bath behind him.

"I put some of that lavender oil in that you like, and the towels are all ready. Once you've gotten in the bath, I'll go next door and ring for Bates, and then I'll help you get dressed for bed when you're done." He kissed the tender spot just behind her ear after whispering these words into it, making her skin tingle.

As Cora wrapped her hair in its scarf, Robert knelt down and removed her shoes, then slowly ran his hands up the backs of her calves and then over the sides of her thighs in search of the tops of her stockings. He kept his eyes on hers, holding them in his gaze in such a way that made every touch of his fingers a sacramental act.

Finding the tops of the stockings at her mid-thigh, his hands lingered there for just a moment, appearing to tease her before rolling the silken material down very deliberately, their eyes still locked. Only when he'd discarded both stockings on the floor did he look down, and, taking her right leg in his hands, he lifted it to press his lips lightly to the purple and yellow bruise on her shin – where she'd kicked out in her sleep two nights ago and hit his knee.

Releasing her leg, he stood again, kissing her forehead. "I'll go check the bath."

Watching him go, Cora smiled and got up, unbuttoning her dress and letting it slide down her body to the floor. She heard the tap being turned off and Robert's voice calling through the doorway, "It's ready, sweetheart." Cora quickly divested herself of slip and underthings and walked into the washroom.

Robert's face took on a tender expression as he watched her enter the room and climb carefully into the bath. "It's just right, darling," she said approvingly. "Go on now and get ready while I relax for a while."

"Alright, Cora." He caressed her cheek before leaving for his dressing room, grinning as her sweet voice reached his ears. She might be tired, but she was happy. She hummed and sang only when she was happy.

Cora took her time over her bath, thoroughly enjoying the steamy, scented water and examining her abdomen, running her hands over it gently. Feeling relaxed and happy, smelling of lavender, she grasped the side of the bath in order to get out… and froze.

The memories washed over her suddenly, unbidden. She stared, unseeing, at the floor, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She relived it all: slipping, falling, hitting the floor. The blood. The screams. The loss. The emptiness.

The knowledge that she'd been careless and lost their child. A son.

Her body felt paralyzed, yet her hands gripped the side of the bath so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. She felt barely able to breathe. She opened her mouth to call out, but no sound came. She tried again, tried to cry out for Robert, and could only manage a high pitched squeak. Cora kept trying – kept trying because the memories continued to assault her, because she couldn't move, because she needed her husband to rescue her.

Robert closed the dressing room door behind him, tying his dressing gown as he started toward the washroom. He stopped short when he heard a series of strangled noises coming from that room. "Cora?" he ventured, hesitating.

Within a few seconds the noises formed – not clearly, but unmistakably to him – his name. Rushing now, Robert went into the washroom, half afraid of what he would find there. What he did find was his wife clinging to the side of the bath, huddled there, trembling so hard the water rippled. Her eyes were fixed upon the floor, and she was white as a sheet, her mouth opening and closing as she attempted to fashion words.

"Cora? Are you hurt?" He sat on the floor in front of her, endeavoring to get her to focus her eyes upon him. "Please, sweetheart, tell me what's wrong."

Finally Cora's eyes rested upon his. She still couldn't seem to speak, so Robert asked her again, "Darling, are you hurt?"

She shook her head slightly, her face full of fear.

"Can you get out of the bath? The water's getting cold. I don't want you to get sick, Cora." When he touched her face, she flinched, taking him aback.

She managed to utter one word: "No."

"Dear heart, you have to get out of the bath now." He kept his hand on her face, watching tears gather on her lashes.

"No." It was incredible to him how she made that one tiny word speak volumes – of fear and sadness and obstinance. "I can't," she added, beginning to shake her head more emphatically.

"Cora, you can't stay here all night."

Closing her eyes, she continued to shake her head. Robert sighed, wondering what could be going on with her. He stood, taking his dressing gown off and laying it across a chair. Pulling up a sleeve, he reached into the bath and removed the plug. Cora hadn't moved. Once the water got down to nearly nothing, Robert put his arms under his wife and lifted her out of the bath.

Immediately, her arms slid around his neck, clutching him firmly to her, as if she were hanging on to him for dear life. She burrowed her head against him, whispering what sounded to him like, "Don't let me go… don't let me fall… don't drop me…." He could feel her trembling, her breathing ragged, as if she'd forgotten exactly how.

Holding her tightly against him, he used one arm to awkwardly pick up a towel, trying to wrap it around her, feeling her tense up even more. He whispered against her hair, truly concerned now, "Shhhh, darling, I've got you. I won't let you go." He got the towel around her as best he could and carried her over to the bed, continuing to murmur comfortingly to her.

However, as Robert released his hold on her to place her on the bed, Cora clung to him. "Don't leave me. Please. Don't go," was her imploring whisper.

"But your night dress…." The words died on his lips as he felt her pull him even closer. Instead, he climbed up beside her and kept one arm wrapped securely around her while he covered them both with the bedclothes. Now that she had unfolded herself and her chest was against his, he could feel exactly how much her heart was racing. "Cora, sweetheart, tell me what's got you so afraid."

"I can't… it can't happen again. I can't lose…" She trailed off as she nuzzled her face into his neck even more, trying to use him as a shield against the pain and fear, against the images flashing in her mind. "Not again."

And all at once he understood. Stroking her dark tresses and hugging her closer, he felt his voice stick in his throat, unable to find a way around the rising lump. So he simply kept making soft hushing sounds, cradling her against him until she finally calmed down and fell asleep in his arms. Robert continued to rock her gently, letting his tears drop upon her hair.

* * *

When morning came, Robert woke with Cora still clinging to him in her sleep. Remembering what had transpired the night before, he wondered whether he should leave her there. He placed a kiss on her brow, feeling that if he left, it would be like abandoning her, and he couldn't do it. So he lay there and listened to her breathe, thinking.

It wasn't long before she stirred, then, a moment later, tightened her arms around him. "Robert, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Sweetheart," he said, surprised, "why on earth would you be sorry?"

Cora took a deep breath. "For acting that way. It's just that, when I went to get out of the bath, I… I couldn't move. I could barely breathe."

"I know." Robert sighed. "It's nothing to apologize for, darling. I can't even imagine what you must have felt."

They lay there that way, simply holding one another for a while, both endeavoring to exorcise old demons from their thoughts – neither of them succeeding as well as they would hope.

"Robert," Cora said softly, "you should go downstairs. Tom will wonder where you are."

"I won't leave you unless you're ready." He moved his head so he could look at her.

She gave him a small smile. "I'll be fine, darling. I promise. I'll ring for Anna, and she'll help me this morning." Her stomach made a low growl, and she chuckled. "Plus, I will need breakfast soon."

Taking her chuckle as a sign that she really was alright, Robert held her face in his hands and kissed each of her cheeks. "If you need anything, send someone out to find me. It doesn't matter what it is."

Nodding, she looked at him tenderly. "I love you."

"I love you too." Pressing a brief kiss to her lips, he got out of bed and went to his dressing room. He paused at the door, glancing back at her. "Cora –"

She was sitting up and wrapping the towel more modestly around her. She grinned at him and made motion with her hands. "Shoo, now. I'll be just fine."

Smiling at her, he vanished behind the door.

As soon as he did, her smile vanished too. She heaved a deep sigh, knowing that just thinking of the bath now made her hands shake and her heart beat harder. Nevertheless, she got out of bed and pulled the bell cord, going to her armoire for a night dress to put on before Anna would appear with breakfast.

* * *

After an almost completely silent luncheon with Edith, Cora decided she didn't care about the others right now and would spend the rest of the afternoon with Sybbie. They would have a nap in Grandmama's bed and take their tea at the small play table in the nursery. Somehow she drew both comfort and strength from the little girl's presence, her complete obliviousness to the adult storms brewing all around her. Cora wanted to be more like that as she adjusted to the fact that she carried another child.

Sybbie crowed happily when her grandmother told her they were to have their afternoon rest in her bedroom. Once they'd had a few hours of sleep, Sybbie woke her in ringing tones, bouncing upon the middle of the bed excitedly. "'M-mama! Tea part'!"

Cora smiled at her, sitting up and gathering her granddaughter into her arms, feeling everything else fall away. "Sybbie, darling, let's get ready first. We want to look our best for your guests."

Her head bobbing up and down, Sybbie reached her arms around her grandmother's neck so she could be picked up and taken to the dressing table. They sat there together, Sybbie upon Cora's lap, as Cora opened her jewelry box.

"Now, what would you like to wear to our tea party?" As she asked the question, she picked up her hairbrush and ran it across Sybbie's hair. It didn't take long, as Sybbie's hair was still very short, but she knew the little girl liked being treated as her grandmother would by a lady's maid.

Cora smoothed her own hair as Sybbie chose a yellow diamond pendant necklace and earrings for her grandmama. Putting them on herself, she watched as Sybbie twitched out a massive headpiece. "M'-mama, 'N-cess Sybbie?"

Chuckling, Cora wrapped her arms around her granddaughter. "Baby, that's much too big for you yet. It will hurt your head." She dropped a kiss on her hair and then pulled out a delicate gold and yellow diamond diadem. "What about this, Sybbie? It matches Grandmama's jewelry."

Sybbie released the larger headpiece and clapped her hands together as she shrieked in delight. Cora laughed and told her she needed to be still so Grandmama could put it on her. Securing it to her little bit of hair with bobby pins, as it was far too large for her head, Cora grinned at her. "See? Princess Sybbie." The girl clasped her hands together and bounced lightly upon Cora's lap when she saw her reflection. "Are we ready, little love? Your guests are waiting."

Nodding slightly, Sybbie said, "Down, 'M-mama." Cora helped her slide off her lap and grasped her hand as they walked out of the room and down the hall to her nursery. Upon entering the room, Cora whispered her gratitude to the nanny, who had made sure Sybbie's favorite dolls were seated around the table and two chairs left empty for the pair of them, then dismissed her with instructions to ring for their tea.

"The tea trolley should be here any moment, Princess Sybbie. Shall we sit?" Cora watched as Sybbie sat down and pointed to the chair next to hers.

"'M-mama, sit!" Her face was ecstatic. She and her grandmother hadn't had a tea party alone in many weeks. "'M-papa?" she asked.

"Grandpapa is downstairs taking tea with Papa and Aunt Edith." Cora smiled at the maid who brought in the tea trolley and set everything up on the table for them.

Cora watched Sybbie lovingly as she stood up and distributed biscuits and tea cakes all around, putting an extra tea cake on the plate of her favorite doll. "Mama have more." Then she put extra biscuits and cakes on Cora's plate. "'M-mama have more."

Sybbie let her grandmother pour milk into all the cups, turning fascinated eyes upon her grandmother as she put tea and a little milk into her own and then piled the empty half of her plate with sandwiches.

"'M-mama, Sybbie tea?" Her eyes inquired curiously.

Her grandmama looked at her, then smiled. "Alright, baby, but only a little. It's hot." She trickled a little tea into her cup, then nearly laughed as Sybbie emulated her, stirring her tea with a spoon.

They drank and ate, Cora talking with Sybbie and having pretend conversations with the dolls. For about an hour they sat there together, grandmother chuckling at her granddaughter's funny behavior, forgetting about everything else for a while – just as she hoped she would.

Cora looked up when the door opened, admitting Tom. Sybbie was too engrossed in telling her "guests" a story about Grandpapa and a dragon (from what Cora could tell) to notice their tea had been disturbed. As she continued with the story, Tom approached the table with a grin on his face.

"I believe she has you hooked," he observed.

"Oh no, Tom. I asked her to entertain me for the afternoon actually." She fidgeted, the tiny chair starting to become uncomfortable for her.

Tom extended a hand to help her up, smiling warmly. Cora took it, stretching out her cramped limbs. They retired to the other side of the room, both keeping their eyes on the little girl.

"How are you feeling?" Tom asked. He was startled to see his mother-in-law's eyes brighten with unshed tears. "Did I say something wrong?"

Cora smiled widely at him, slowly shaking her head. "No, Tom. It's just that you're the first person besides Robert to even ask me that."

"I'm not going to lie to you, Cora. It's a lot to take in," he said, hoping she didn't mind if he spoke plainly – thinking that perhaps she wished someone would. "Think of it: Sybbie will call your child, one over two years younger than her, 'aunt' or 'uncle.' And if the baby is a boy –"

Surprising him again, Cora placed her hand in his, still smiling. "I know. It changes everything." Looking down at her hand in his, she said softly, "All of that aside, we're happy. Robert and I. We never thought we would have another chance to have a baby. And, you're right, it's a lot to take in. Having a baby at my age? There are risks and potential complications. There is a lot for _us_ to think about and adjust to. Yet – my own daughter hasn't asked me how I am, how I'm feeling. But you did." Cora pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her eyes.

Pressing her hand very faintly, Tom brought her to the pair of chairs not far from where they stood, and they sat together. "So… how are you feeling?"

"Well, your daughter has fed me a good tea, so at least I'm less hungry." She chuckled a bit before continuing. "I'm tired, Tom. And a little frightened." She felt she could be honest with him. He'd always confided in her – when he'd begun to have the nightmares about Sybil's death, she was the one he'd sought out. She was the one he turned to when he had a problem or if there had been a misunderstanding with Robert – as there often was, she was sorry to say. "But I'm happy. We're happy. Despite everything else."

Tom smiled at her again. "Then I'm happy for you both." He paused before adding in a low voice. "And I know Sybil would be too."

Tears leapt into her eyes once more. "Thank you, Tom. For saying that. It – it means more than you can know."

At that moment, Sybbie appeared to realize that someone had joined them. "PAPA!" she squawked, running over and throwing herself against his legs.

"Sybbie, my sweet, did you give your guests a good tea?" Releasing Cora's hand with one last squeeze, Tom lifted his daughter onto his lap.

Nodding, Sybbie nestled herself against her papa's shirtfront, sighing in contentment.

"Well, I should leave you two for a while. I'll see you at dinner, Tom." She gave him a warm smile as she leaned over to kiss her granddaughter on the cheek, then stood to leave.

Tom cuddled his daughter close. "See you at dinner."

* * *

Robert and Cora went upstairs after another quiet meal with Tom and Edith.

"Robert?" Cora asked as she sat at her dressing table once more. "Did you hear from Mary or Rosamund today?"

Shutting the door firmly behind them, Robert shook his head sadly. "No, darling. Nothing."

Cora's heart sank. She sighed heavily. "It hurts me, Robert. To hear nothing."

Robert sat on a chair facing her while she began her nightly ritual. "Cora, Mary is probably simply shocked, like everyone else. Rosamund – well, she might have thought of a sarcastic response, but as she knows you'll read her reaction as well as I would, she's abstaining until she can think of something nicer to say." He rolled his eyes slightly.

Nodding sadly, Cora lifted her eyes to him. "I – I should have a bath tonight."

He looked at her askance – both at her abrupt change of subject and at her statement. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Cora. Last night –"

Cora stood. She was already trembling from head to toe, but her expression was defiant. "Robert, I don't want the mother of our child to be a coward."

Standing also, Robert took her hands in his. "I don't ever want to hear you call the mother of my children, my wife, a coward. She is the bravest woman I have ever known." He kissed each of her hands, then stroked them gently with this thumbs.

"Robert?" she asked, in a much smaller voice, betraying her fear.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Will you help me?" Her eyes met his. "I don't think I can do this alone."

Robert wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. "You shan't then, my love. I'll be right there, as long as you need me." Leaning back he looked at her as she nodded. "Let me get changed. I'll be right back, alright, darling?" She nodded again, and he withdrew to the other room, ringing for Bates immediately.

Cora stood there, waiting, not able to move. When he returned, she was rooted to the same spot, still shaking.

"Are you certain, Cora?"

She nodded again, insistently. He led her by the hand into the washroom and turned on the tap, having her sit on a chair while he moved around, getting everything ready for her bath. He even put extra towels down on the floor, hoping to guard against her fears of slipping. He helped her finish undressing, kissing her tenderly as they went along, noting how she still shook with nerves and apprehension.

Once the bath was full, he turned off the tap and spun around to take her hands, smiling at her softly, endeavoring to put her as much at ease as possible.

Cora allowed him to help her into the bath. Of course, getting in was not the most difficult part. Still, she clutched one of his hands, refusing to let it go. He managed as best as he could with one hand, lathering soap onto a sponge and running it over her, asking her to tell him about her tea with Sybbie, trying to put her mind elsewhere. His hand lingered over her abdomen under the water, his heart surging with love for the two of them. He didn't want to leave it there too long, however, for fear that it would remind her of before.

After the water began to turn tepid and Robert thought perhaps she had calmed enough, he suggested she get out of the bath. Immediately, he felt her begin to shake again.

"Darling, I'm right here. I'll make sure nothing happens to you," he whispered, fixing his eyes on hers.

"Robert, I can't."

At least she wasn't gripping the edge of the bathtub or squeaking his name as she'd done before.

"Cora, you can do anything. You can. And I'll be here the whole time. I'll help you."

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Cora clutched Robert's hand with one of hers and his arm with the other. Not opening her eyes, she slowly, tentatively, stood.

Speaking in a low voice, Robert gently praised her. "Yes, my love, that's half of it. You're doing wonderfully. Now, let me help you over the edge…."

She squeezed her eyes more firmly shut. "No, no, I can't. I can't move, Robert. I can't stop thinking about it," she said in a loud whisper, shaking her head and gripping him hard.

Robert closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Cora, you can. I'm not going to let you go, not for one second."

Another deep breath and she'd put one leg out of the bath, her foot on the dry towel.

"One more time, dear heart, one more." He cheered her on, whispering around the lump in his throat at how difficult this was for her, at what she must be going through again in her mind.

She lifted her other leg out, collapsing against him, keeping a near stranglehold around his neck.

Robert held her, wrapping a clean towel around her and rubbing her back. "See? That wasn't so bad was it?" Her trembling and heartbeat against his chest told him that it was, in fact, bad. "Should we walk into the other room?"

"The floor… it might be slippery, Robert," she protested against his throat.

"I know, darling. Here –" He put one arm under her knees, leaving the other around her back, and lifted her up. He carried her to the bed again and sat beside her, her arms still about his neck. "Cora? Are you alright?"

She loosened her hold around his neck and drew back a little to look at him. The fear was still in her eyes, but her trembling had lessened, and he thought her heartbeat had returned to closer to normal. "No. Not really." Cora removed one of her arms from his neck and touched his face tenderly. "But I will be. I have you."

* * *

A/N: For this story, although it is a Cobert fic, each chapter will be ruled (largely) by one character and represented by a color in the spectrum. By the end, I hope the character will be obvious in each chapter, and I will include a brief quote regarding the symbolism of the color, which will serve as my reasoning for using that color in that particular chapter and/or for that particular ruling character and the events included.

Yellow (Cora): "joy, happiness, hope" – but also "cowardice, dishonesty, betrayal, jealousy, deceit, hazard" (Many of those last ones expressing my feelings about O'Brien….)


	3. Silver

Robert and Tom arrived back at the house just in time for luncheon. Once their coats had been taken, Carson approached Robert with a telegram. He opened it and grinned widely as he read the contents.

"Carson, let Mrs. Hughes know that I'd like a word with her in the library after luncheon. Was there anything from Lady Mary or Lady Rosamund?" He tucked the telegram in his pocket.

"No, my lord. Not yet." Carson lifted one of his bushy eyebrows a fraction of an inch. "However, there was a message from the Dowager Countess. She 'requests' your lordship's presence for tea this afternoon."

Robert passed a hand over his brow in agitation, sighing. "Yes, well, we both know that her 'requests' are always 'orders,' don't we, Carson? Did she ask for her ladyship as well?"

Carson replied, "No, the Dowager Countess specifically requested you, my lord."

"Thank you, Carson. That will be all." Robert turned to Tom. "The ladies will be waiting."

Throughout luncheon, Robert watched his wife's face grow sadder. Tom made a grand effort at lively chatter to make up for Edith's near silence, and Cora cast him grateful glances between bites. Once she'd finished her meal, however, she couldn't seem to contain her tears. Throwing a pained look at her daughter, she stood abruptly. With a low "excuse me, I need to…," Cora dropped her serviette on her chair and hastened from the room.

Robert stood as well, fixing Edith with a glare that made her lower her lashes in shame before he flung his serviette down on his plate and left the room in disgust.

He caught up with Cora on the staircase landing, where she was sobbing so hard she'd had to stop because she couldn't see. Slipping an arm around her waist, he guided her to their room. Once they'd stepped inside and he'd closed the door, she turned, burying her face into his chest. Without a word, Robert embraced her, rubbing her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"My own daughter won't speak to me, Robert. She barely looks at me," she choked out between sobs. "How does she think that makes me feel? Why can't she be happy for us?"

Not knowing the answers to these questions – and uncertain that Cora actually sought answers, from him at least – he simply let her clutch at his jacket lapels and weep on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Robert allowed his gestures to speak for him, to give her the comfort she needed.

As her tears slowed and her breathing became normal again, Robert whispered to her. "Come along, my love. I think you could use a rest." Feeling her nod and hearing her sigh, he kissed the top of her head and led her to the bed. He tucked her within the blankets and pressed his lips to the glitter of tears remaining on her cheeks. Then he kissed her hand and looked down into her face, saying, "I have to go to the Dower House for tea this afternoon. If you don't want to go downstairs, darling, tell me, and I'll have Mrs. Hughes send up a tray later."

Squeezing his hand, she nodded again. "Please, have her send up a tray, Robert. I don't think I can bear tea today without you there with me."

"Try and get some sleep, sweetheart." Caressing her cheek, he gave her a small smile before departing.

A scowl replaced the smile as he observed Edith spin around at the end of the hall and bear down on him at full speed, an anxious expression on her face. Apparently she'd been pacing the hallway, waiting for them to emerge from the bedroom. "Papa –"

Shaking his head, Robert marched toward her, only to move to go around her.

His daughter reached out to grab his arm. "Please, Papa –"

Robert stopped and detached her fingers from his sleeve. "No, Edith. I can't speak to you right now," he said, his voice low but inflexible as steel. He couldn't look at her. "Do not knock on your mother's door."

To his dismay, Edith turned on her heel, as she burst into tears and ran to her room. He flinched when he heard her door slam. Sighing, his shoulders feeling very heavy all of a sudden, he continued on to seek out the sanctuary of his library.

Robert stopped short at the sight of their housekeeper standing there. "Mrs. Hughes? Is there something I can do for you?"

A look of confusion crossed her face. "Mr. Carson told me you wanted to speak to me here after luncheon, Lord Grantham."

His expression clearing, he walked over to her, shaking his head. "I apologize, Mrs. Hughes. It's already been an – well, an interesting and somewhat fatiguing day." He extracted the telegram from his pocket, smiling as he held it out for her to take. "I received this today."

Mrs. Hughes' smile reflected his own when she looked up from reading the telegram. "This is wonderful news, my lord."

"I'm quite pleased by it myself, actually." Taking the paper back from her, he placed it in his pocket once more. "Can you have everything ready by next week, then?"

Nodding, she replied, "Most assuredly, my lord. Completely ready."

"And not a word of this to her ladyship. It's to be a surprise." His grin faltered just a touch and he looked down. "I think she could use a nice surprise at this point."

Seeing his expression, Mrs. Hughes took one step closer to him. "Lord Grantham," she said, her voice soft, "I want you to know that those of us downstairs are very happy for you and her ladyship."

Robert lifted his eyes and smiled gratefully at the kindly face in front of him. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. It's much appreciated."

"I'll leave you now, your lordship, unless there's anything else?"

"No, no. That was all. I know you'll take care of all that needs to be done." Robert stepped aside so the housekeeper could get by him.

"Of course, my lord." Mrs. Hughes gave him one last warm smile before leaving the room.

* * *

A few hours later, Carson's voice interrupted Robert's reverie. "My lord? The car is ready to take you to the Dower House."

Robert placed the cap on his pen and turned in the chair. "Thank you, Carson. I'll only be a moment." Remembering something, he stood and said, "Carson? Would you tell Mrs. Hughes to take a tea tray up to her ladyship in about a half hour? I meant to ask her earlier, and it completely slipped my mind."

Carson inclined his head. "Certainly, my lord."

Following Carson into the foyer, Robert endeavored to collect his scattered thoughts as he collected his hat and coat from the butler. He was not at all sure he wanted to see his mother.

Robert sighed when the gates of the Dower House came into view. Girding himself for the attack he knew would surely come, he exited the motor when the chauffeur opened the door and gave his coat and hat to his mother's butler. He took one more deep breath just before entering her drawing room.

"Mama!" he said with false enthusiasm as he bent down to kiss her cheek before sitting across from her at the tea table.

Violet pursed her lips at her son. "Robert, don't pretend to be happy to see me. I know you aren't." She poured tea for the two of them, then passed him a cup.

Robert let yet another sigh pass his lips. "Fine, Mama. You're right. I'm not happy – I'm on tenterhooks. Usually when you 'request' a tea time audience with one of us, it can't be good." He took a sip of tea, then said, "So, let's have it."

Rolling her eyes, Violet replied, "Really, Robert, you don't have to be quite so dramatic about it."

"Am I not right? Don't you have something to say to me? Something I probably won't like?" He sat up straighter in his chair.

"I only wanted to speak to you about Cora and this pregnancy business," she answered, her eyes on her spoon as she stirred her tea.

Robert put his tea cup down on the table. "Yes, I imagine you do," he muttered under his breath.

Violet lifted her eyes to his at last. "Robert Crawley, what on earth were you thinking?"

He hadn't expected that question. Baffled, he merely said, "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'? Things were finally going smoothly, and then you and Cora have to make this kind of announcement!" She punctuated the statement with a jab of her hand in the air.

Robert looked at her incredulously. "Mama, do you think we planned for this to happen?"

Violet came very close to snorting. "Of course not. Not even you two would be that ridiculous. But, for God's sake, Robert, can't you control yourself enough to keep it from happening?"

Shaking his head, he stood and crossed over to her drinks cabinet. As she didn't seem to have any Scotch, he poured himself a generous glass of sherry and drank deeply of it before turning to her again. "I can't believe what I'm hearing! Cora and I are in our fifties, she hasn't been pregnant in seven years, and before that she hadn't been pregnant in eighteen! Do you honestly suggest that we should have been abstaining?" He imbibed another large drink of sherry, wondering how he'd come to be discussing this with his mother of all people.

"If you had been, like most married people your age, this wouldn't have happened!" Her voice became increasingly querulous. "No respectable English couple would continue to carry on the way it is _quite_ clear now that you two do!"

At this, sherry cascaded from Robert's mouth and all over the rug. "Bloody hell, Mama!" He picked up a serviette and wiped his lips.

"Robert!" She eyed him in shock. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"I was about to ask the same of you! How on earth is it any of your business if we 'carry on'? You might be happy that we're happy together – that we're happy about having another baby! Instead you act as if it's our fault that we are! That it's some sort of calamity or complication!" He slammed down the now empty sherry glass, his face growing red.

"Calm down, Robert! I'll not have you throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of my drawing room. You're acting like a child." Before Robert could reply to this, she went on. "And speaking of children, what if this baby is another girl?"

Still red with anger, Robert pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes. "I would think it would be more of a complication if the child were a boy. What of Matthew? The money he put into the estate? What about any children he and Mary have? Their sons?" He withdrew his hand to look at her. "Trust me, Mama, I am not unaware of the consequences of having another child." Turning to pour another sherry, he endeavored to still his shaking hands.

"I'm not so sure about that, Robert. And what_ of_ Matthew? He _invested_ in the estate. Am I not right to assume that you and any other future heirs of Downton – if Matthew doesn't inherit – will share any profits with him, with Mary and their children? Is that not how it works?" Violet stared at him.

Robert drank more of the sherry and ran his hand over his forehead. "Mama, you are giving me a headache. Of course, Mary and Matthew and their family would be provided for. That is beside the point."

"Well, silly me, I thought that was precisely the point." She sipped her tea and glanced at her son, who leaned heavily against the drinks cabinet, his head in one hand and the sherry glass in another. She couldn't resist adding, nearly under her breath, "Perhaps this time Cora will get it right."

Banging the half-full sherry glass down on the cabinet, sherry spilling over the sides unheeded, Robert took several steps toward his mother. "That's it! I won't stand here one more second and let you take shots at Cora! Blaming me for lack of self-control is one thing, but criticizing her for something that is quite beyond her power is another. Don't you dare say anything like that to Cora. Ever," he growled. He swept past her chair to the door. Here he paused and pivoted back to glare at her. Her countenance wore a look of utter shock at his palpable rage. "I hope you only mean her having girls. Because if I thought for one moment you blame her for the accident that claimed our son, I would never, _ever_, speak to you again."

Robert snatched his coat and hat from the butler and brushed past him out the front door of the Dower House. He barked to the chauffeur that he would be walking home. He needed some time to calm down before he saw anyone.

* * *

As soon as Carson opened the door, Robert inquired, "Have there been any telegrams from Lady Mary or Lady Rosamund? Or even Mrs. Levinson?"

"No, my lord," he said, taking Robert's coat and hat from him.

"Right. Well, where might Lady Edith be?"

"Lady Edith is in her room, I believe, my lord," Carson responded.

"Good," Robert said, half under his breath. "This is going to get resolved. Right now." He left a somewhat mystified Carson in the foyer and hastened to his daughter's room. The strong feeling of protectiveness for his wife he'd experienced in the past week or so had undergone an astonishing surge during his conversation with his mother. He felt not only protective of Cora physically, but emotionally. And the hurt that so many of their family members were causing her by their seeming indifference or even outright hostility to news that had caused them such joy was too much for him to take anymore. He remembered how she'd wept in his arms over Edith's silence, and he couldn't wait any longer to take steps to rectify the situation.

"Edith!" Robert rapped his knuckles on her bedroom door.

She opened it a moment later in surprise. "Papa. What are –"

He interrupted her by stepping past her into the room. "You and I need to have a discussion."

"Al-alright." She closed the door and leaned back against it, as if she needed to keep as much distance between them as possible.

"I don't think you understand how upset your mother was earlier, Edith. And when your mother is upset, it upsets me." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Might you do me a favor and explain why you can't at least pretend to be happy for her – for us?"

"Papa, I'm sorry. I didn't realize…" She held onto the doorknob behind her back with both hands and looked down at the floor. Taking a deep breath, she attempted an explanation. "I don't think either of you understand how it makes me feel to see my mother having another child." She raised her head, and Robert saw tears sparkling in his daughter's eyes. "It's another reminder of what I don't have, Papa. It's supposed to be our time for having children. Mary will probably announce any day now that she's expecting too, but I don't even have that hope. I have no one."

Just as Robert felt himself thawing toward his daughter, she added, "I'm glad that Mama isn't ill, but why did she have to be pregnant?"

Robert uncrossed his arms, his hands balling into fists to prevent himself from slapping Edith. Because he sorely wanted to right then. Of course he would never do such a thing. He had a temper, and he could do his share of shouting, but he wasn't by nature a violent man. And he would never lay a hand on one of his family. "Do you think your mother became pregnant on purpose? Do you think she wanted to make you feel sad or lonely or to remind you of what you don't have, as you say? Edith, sometimes I wonder at you. I don't know if you realize how self-centered and churlish you sound when you say things like that." He approached the door, grateful that Edith moved away from it of her own volition, rather than making him push her aside – probably not very gently. He looked at her again, but this time his glance was more pitying. "You know, Edith, perhaps if you shared in your mother's happiness, our happiness, you wouldn't feel so alone. Something to think about, my girl."

From behind the closed door Robert could hear her weep. He shook his head. He honestly felt sorry for Edith, but he couldn't let her continue to act as if her mother's pregnancy was planned as a personal affront. He wouldn't allow it.

* * *

The next several days drained Robert of all energy. They finally received a telegram from Mary, one with a terse congratulations on the news and informing her parents that she and Matthew planned to arrive home about a week before Christmas. It appeared to placate Cora, but Robert knew his eldest. The storm would arrive with her in December.

Edith at least pretended to be resigned to her mother's state, but her cool politeness to Cora set Robert's blood simmering. However, like Mary's succinct telegram, any attention seemed enough for his wife. At least on the surface – at least for now. Edith avoided her father altogether when she could, evidently still smarting from his remarks to her in her bedroom.

Surprisingly, at least for Robert, he increasingly looked forward to his work with Tom on the estate. Tom's acceptance of Cora's pregnancy, his efforts to smooth things with the rest of the family, his small attentions to Cora – which did not go unnoticed by Robert – had earned him a great deal of gratitude and respect from his father-in-law. Robert found himself softening toward the revolutionary chauffeur who had stolen his daughter's heart. He began to appreciate more and more what Sybil had seen in him – and that perhaps Tom hadn't stolen her heart after all, but that she'd given it to him willingly.

Robert refused to communicate with his mother, and the Dowager Countess, just as stubbon as her son, did not ask herself to dinner or tea – or anything else. This suited Robert fine, as he had enough to deal with already to exhaust him.

He and Cora continued to struggle with her fears concerning the bath. Every night, though, it got a bit easier for her. Robert worked on it with her by degrees. First she bathed on her own as he sat in the washroom with her, then helped her out. The next night he reclined on the bed until she called for him. Getting out of the bath always proved to be the true test.

In a few days, she was able to get out by clinging to his arms alone. Then, after he dried her off, her hands still gripping him tightly, Cora walked out of the washroom with his arm around her waist. It was the first night he hadn't had to carry her out of the room.

As they sat on the bed together after this particular night, Cora expressed her gratitude to him with an especially intense kiss.

"Cora, darling," Robert said, "it's late. We should get some sleep."

Before she could say anything, he'd gotten up and turned off her lamp, walked around to his side of the bed, tucked himself under the covers, and switched his own lamp off.

"Robert?" she said into the dark. "Will you hold me?"

"Of course I will, my dear." He moved over to her and waited until she was settled before he slid an arm under her waist and spooned up to her back. "Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, my darling," She fell asleep in no time, for which Robert was glad.

Over the next several nights, a pattern emerged. Robert helped her with her bath, then, when Cora initiated anything more than tender kisses or comforting embraces, he would plead fatigue and insist they go right to sleep. His behavior perplexed Cora, and she began to wonder if he no longer found her desirable, or if her fear of the bath had changed the way he saw her somehow.

On the third night of this, she sighed heavily as she heard his breath deepen close to her ear. She wasn't sure how long she could go without feeling his hands on her body, his lips on her skin, his…. She closed her eyes tight and endeavored to forget about it for now and go to sleep.

Robert woke in the middle of the night to the increasingly familiar sounds of Cora dreaming. Except… it was one of _those_ dreams. His entire body tensed as he listened to her pant and sigh his name in her sleep, as he felt her begin to writhe in his arms….

"Oh, God," he breathed, feeling his body react against his biding. He'd been able to keep his urges under control since he'd found out she was pregnant, but this – this was too much for him.

Carefully, quietly, he pulled his arm out from under her and backed out of the bed. Even in the grey of the room, he could see the look of bliss on her face as he passed her on his way to the washroom. He left the door slightly ajar, listening to the soft mewling noises and sharp gasps she made in her sleep as he got rid of his pajama bottoms and undershorts as quickly as possible.

Awakening with a gasp by her own dream, Cora lay there, becoming aware that her husband wasn't in bed with her. In another few seconds she became aware of something else – noises coming from the washroom: low groans and heavy breathing. She got up and pattered the few steps to the door. Finding it open a crack, she pushed it open just enough so she could look into the room. She stifled an exclamation of surprise at the sight that met her. Robert was there, in silhouette. He faced the bath, standing with his legs up against its edge as his hands moved along his arousal. The moonlight streamed in through the high window, touching the silvery locks on his head and giving him a faintly angelic glow, the work of his hands notwithstanding.

Unable to stay put any longer, Cora glided silently into the room, her eyes glazed with desire. She knelt beside him on the towels that covered the floor – left over from her bath – and, before he even noticed she was there, she curled her fingers around him.

Robert's eyes flew open. "Cora, no – I –" He fell silent as her other hand and mouth replaced his own hands, and he concentrated on keeping his knees from buckling underneath him. He watched her, his own eyes darkening, his fingers twisting into her hair.

Cora continued her attentions, her hands sometimes sliding around to grasp his buttocks – at which he moaned deeply – then back again. His breathing became ever more labored until he thought he would collapse with pleasure. All of a sudden he was breathing her name, then crying it out, and, with a final twitching of her hands, he groaned and slumped over, clutching the side of the bath.

As Robert stood there, panting, endeavoring to recover his wits, Cora looked up from where she still knelt beside him. "Now, do you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Cora, might a man put his pajamas – or at least his underthings – back on before you question him?" Robert knew she was serious, but he wasn't yet ready to answer her question.

Standing, Cora retrieved these garments from a chair and threw them at him. She put her hands on her hips. "Better?" she asked.

Sighing, Robert stepped into his undergarments and then his pajamas. "Cora, I'm sorry."

"For what?" She kept her hands where they were, her look half curious and half accusatory.

He started into their bedroom. "For, well, for that." Robert gestured toward the bathtub.

Cora followed him, her hands still on her hips. "I'm not sure why that's something to be sorry over. Might you enlighten me?"

Robert flopped onto the bed, his shoulders hunched, unwilling to meet her eyes as she stood before him that way. "I – I know you've wanted to, well, to…."

"Yes. I have. _All_ of my appetites have increased, Robert. The doctor took that as a strong sign of my pregnancy, in fact."

He lifted his head to look at her. "He did?" A faint smile crossed his lips.

"He did. But don't change the subject." She began to pace back and forth. "Robert, honestly, that –" she pointed to the bathroom – "is, as far as I know, something you only do when I'm ill or mad at you or far away from you. Isn't it?" She stopped, her eyes boring into his.

Robert nodded. "Yes. But –"

"Robert, why, then? Am I undesirable to you?" Cora's eyes glittered with tears at even the thought of this.

"No." He began breathing slightly heavier just thinking about her earlier dream. "Dear God, no."

"Then what? I'm at a loss." Now she crossed her arms, looking at him expectantly.

"Cora, I –" he took a deep breath – "Cora, I'm afraid of hurting you, of hurting the baby." Robert gazed at her, knowing the complete truth of his words would be in his eyes.

Cora shook her head. "Robert, why didn't you say so? And do you know how strange that sounds to me? Up until we found out for sure…. Why is this a problem now?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just keep thinking about before, and add to that your fears with the bath…." He hung his head again. "I don't want to hurt either of you," he whispered.

Sighing, Cora sat next to him on the bed and took his hand. "Robert, look at me, please."

Robert turned his face to hers as she requested.

"I really don't think you'll hurt either of us, darling," she said. "But if you're uncertain, telephone Dr. Ryder. Please. He said we could ask him anything. Besides, I'm not sure I can do without your loving attentions for the next several months." She smiled at him and touched his cheek.

Placing his other hand over hers on his cheek, he moved it so he could kiss her palm. "I'll telephone him tomorrow. I promise, my love."

Cora's voice was teasing now. "See that you do." She yawned. "Now, I think sleep is in order after such exertions."

His heart leapt at her wicked grin, and, gathering her to himself, he pulled them down onto the bed and kissed her soundly before drawing the covers over them, holding her closely as they fell asleep.

* * *

After luncheon the next day, Robert barricaded himself into the foyer, leaving Carson on guard. He wanted no one to overhear his conversation.

Picking up the receiver, he prayed that the good doctor would be available for consultation with him as he gave the operator the appropriate information to be put through to the office in Harley Street.

"Dr. Ryder here."

Robert sighed in relief. "Yes, Dr. Ryder, this is Lord Grantham. You saw my wife over a week ago?"

"Yes, I remember, Lord Grantham. How is her ladyship?"

"Oh, she's fine, doctor. But, well, you know how you said we could telephone if we had any questions?" Robert began to get nervous about what he would have to ask.

"I do. Do you have a question for me, your lordship?"

Drawing confidence from the doctor's genial tone, Robert said, "Yes. I do. I'm sure your records indicate that my wife lost – lost a baby about seven years ago. To be honest, knowing for certain that she's again pregnant has made me reconsider whether I should – well, whether we should be _intimate_." He whispered the last word into the phone.

Dr. Ryder stopped himself from chuckling, sensing the true concern of the man at the other end of the line. "Lord Grantham, if I am recalling correctly, her ladyship's miscarriage was because of an accident, correct? There was no trouble or illness of her or the fet- er, the baby?"

Robert closed his eyes, a pain still in his heart remembering these things. "No, Dr. Ryder, there was no other reason. It was just – just a horrible accident. She slipped getting out of the bath."

Nodding, the doctor said, "If that is the case, your lordship, you shouldn't worry at all about resuming intimacies with your wife. From her examination and our conversation beforehand, she is perfectly healthy, and you were already engaging in those activities before." Robert blushed at his words, but the doctor, not seeing him, didn't skip a beat. "In fact, if she welcomes them, it can be considered a form of exercise for her. In many women it also decreases mood swings."

Robert began to grin. "Oh, she's definitely welcoming –" Catching himself, Robert cleared his throat. "So – so, you'd actually encourage it?"

Dr. Ryder smiled. "Yes, if it's not too tiring for her. And Lady Grantham will be the judge of that."

"Thank you, Dr. Ryder. Thank you very much." Robert's grin now stretched from ear to ear.

"It's my pleasure, Lord Grantham. Please telephone any time you have a question for me."

"Thank you again. Good afternoon, Dr. Ryder." Robert placed the receiver down on its cradle, eager to tell his wife the news.

Not finding her in their bedroom, he nipped down the hallway to Sybbie's nursery. Slipping in the door, he whispered, "Cora."

She turned from where she was playing with Sybbie and, seeing his eyes all alight, got up, leaving Sybbie with a kiss on the forehead. "Yes?" she inquired, holding her breath.

"He said all is well," Robert whispered. Then he bent down and hissed something in her ear that made her blush.

"Nanny, we have to go attend to something urgent," Cora said. "Sybbie, Grandmama and Grandpapa will come get you for tea." Sybbie ran up and accepted embraces and kisses from both before retiring back to the corner where her dolls resided.

Robert loved that Cora appeared giddy as he laced his fingers through hers and led her down the hallway to their bedroom. As soon as the door closed, leaving them alone together, Cora stood on tiptoe to crush her lips to his, threading her fingers through his silvery hair.

"Cora," he whispered, once she'd moved down to his neck, "do you think we could do that thing you did the morning before we went to the doctor?"

Pausing in her attentions to his neck, Cora drew back with a wicked grin. "Oh, I think I can just about manage that, darling," she replied before pulling Robert to her again, kissing him with such a fervor that he couldn't imagine giving up these delights for almost six months.

"I love you, Cora," Robert breathed into her hair.

"I love you too, my dear."

* * *

Silver/gray: "security, reliability, dignity, maturity, solid, conservative, practical, stability, strength of character, authority"


	4. Brown

Mid-November, 1921

Hazel Haverty arrived at the servants' entrance of Downton Abbey, a suitcase in each hand. She wore an immaculate coffee-brown coat and a matching hat; her cases and handbag were worn but neat. Putting one of the suitcases down upon the stoop, she knocked on the door.

Mrs. Hughes answered it, unable to contain her smile when she saw who stood there. "You're right on time." Taking one of the cases from her, she allowed the other woman to pass into the hall. "I'll just show you where you're staying, and you can freshen up before meeting with Lord Grantham."

"Oh, everything looks the same, Mrs. Hughes, and yet – different, too." She followed the housekeeper past the servants' hall and kitchens and then up the stairs, looking around her curiously.

"Yes, well, there have been a few changes in the years since you were here last, I expect." Mrs. Hughes opened a door and went in, carefully setting down the suitcase. "I believe this was once your room, wasn't it?"

Hazel beamed as she gazed around the humble apartment, putting the other suitcase and her handbag on the bed. "Yes. Yes, it was." She took off her coat and hat and hung them on their hooks behind the door. "You said his lordship wanted to see me, Mrs. Hughes? Where will I find him?" She smoothed her hair in the mirror.

"In the library," they said together. Both of them giggled.

Turning to the housekeeper with a warm smile, Hazel said, "Mrs. Hughes, some things never change."

* * *

Carson led Hazel into the library. "Mrs. Haverty," he announced.

Robert stood up from his desk with a grin. "Thank you, Carson."

The butler inclined his head and left the room.

"How wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Haverty." Robert paused and tilted his head. "My, it does seem strange to call you by that name."

"You could always call me 'Perkins', your lordship. Although it's been many years since anyone called me by that name." She smiled at him, noting the signs of the passage of time upon his face, but seeing the same kind man she'd known and respected. "It sounds strange to me to hear anything other than 'Perkins' from you, to be honest, my lord."

"Well, then, 'Perkins' it shall be." He indicated a chair. "Might you sit?"

Hazel lifted a hand in protest. "Oh no, I daren't. What would Mr. Carson say?" Mirth touched her face.

Robert's grin widened. "Right. Well, we wouldn't want to upset Carson." He turned back to the desk and shuffled the papers there. "I wanted to make sure that everything is in order before we go upstairs," he said over his shoulder, continuing to rummage through the disorder atop his desk.

Soon he began to mutter under his breath about how he could never manage to find what he needed when he wanted it. As he bent to peer into one of the desk's pigeon holes, Hazel muffled a giggle against her hand. For her eyes had involuntarily flitted down to the back of his trousers, causing a memory to flash into her mind. It was a memory of something she wasn't meant to see, but had, and now she couldn't banish the vision of flexing muscles and lingering kisses.

With a cry of "Eureka!" Robert spun around with a sheaf of papers in his hand. He looked at the tiny woman in front of him, her expression giving him pause. "Is there something humorous about my organizational skills – or lack thereof ?" His lips twitched.

Hazel realized she still had a hand over a near smirk, and she immediately dropped it, blushing. "No, certainly not, your lordship. I was merely admiring the fine cut of your suit. Professional habit."

Robert looked down at his suit. "Well, I suppose it is a nice one. Lady Grantham picked it out for me when we were last in London for an extended stay. And, yes, of course you would notice, being the wife of a tailor." He cleared his throat. "I was sorry to hear of your husband's passing, Perkins. I know he was a good man."

Hazel lowered her eyes. "Yes, he was a good man, my lord. And although it's been several years now that he's been gone, I miss him every day." Giving herself a little shake, she lifted her eyes to Robert once again. "I apologize, Lord Grantham. I forget myself."

"Perkins, you are the very same now as you always have been." He smiled warmly. "And that's exactly why I know this will work."

Her face brightened. "Regarding that – you had some things to go over with me, my lord?" she prompted, nodding at the bunch of papers he held.

"Yes, yes, right. Well –" He took a step closer to her, then stopped, unable to suppress another wide grin. "Have I mentioned how marvelous it is to see you again?"

Hazel's eyebrows rose, although her mouth curved in a smile. "I believe you have, my lord."

"Well, it is. I'm very glad you're here," he repeated. "And I know Lady Grantham will be too."

* * *

Hazel stared all around the halls and peered into rooms they passed as she followed Robert upstairs. Memories – most of them very pleasant – inundated her to where she felt if she weren't just behind the Earl of Grantham she would give a hop of joy. Once they reached Cora's bedroom door, Hazel waited in the hallway while he entered the room.

"Hello, darling. I just woke from my nap." Cora's voice reached Hazel's ears clearly, and she could hear the caressing way she spoke to her husband. It did Hazel's heart good to know that some things didn't change.

"I have a surprise for you, sweetheart."

"You do?" Hazel could imagine Cora's face glowing. She had always loved surprises. "What is it?"

"Well, it's more of a 'who.'" Robert appeared in the doorway, waving his hand for Hazel to make her entrance.

When Hazel stepped into the room, Cora looked at her in disbelief, as if she mistrusted her own eyes. "Hazel Haverty? Is it really you?"

Hazel nodded, giving Cora a wide smile. "Yes, your ladyship."

A grin broke out on Cora's face, and, without hesitating another second, she got up from the bed and practically ran to Hazel, throwing her arms around her neck in a tight embrace, tears falling down her cheeks. "Oh, my own Perkins. How very happy I am to see you."

"And I you, my lady." Hazel looked to Robert, her glance asking permission to take a liberty. At his nod and smile, she returned Cora's enthusiastic embrace, touched by her warm and unguarded greeting.

"Well, I trust you two have many things to speak about, so I'll leave you be and go find my granddaughter." Robert turned to go.

Cora pulled back from Hazel, lifting a face shining with delight and tears to her husband. "Robert, thank you. This truly is a wonderful surprise."

His gaze upon her was tender. "I was only too happy to arrange it, my darling."

Once he'd gone, Cora brushed haphazardly at her tears and took Hazel's hands in her own. "Please, come sit with me. He's right; we have many things to talk about."

"Lady Grantham, I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable –"

Cora cut her off. "Nonsense. I'm not about to have a long chat standing up, and _I _would be uncomfortable if you stood while I sat." Tugging at her hands impatiently, she led Hazel over to a chair next to the chaise longue. Once they were settled, Cora said, "I'm terribly sorry that I haven't written you in ages. There has been so much happening, but it's no excuse for my being remiss for so long. I think the last time I wrote was just before Sybil –" Her throat caught on her daughter's name, and she looked down at her hands. "Just before our granddaughter was born."

Tears pricked Hazel's eyes and her stomach gave a lurch. "Yes, I did hear of – of Lady Sybil's passing, my lady." As Cora seemed unable to speak yet, Hazel went on. "I started here the day after Lady Edith was born, so Lady Sybil is the only one I saw you carry. Perhaps it's impertinent for me to say, your ladyship, but I always felt a different connection with Lady Sybil. I loved all your little girls, but I knew her before she even arrived."

Cora blinked away tears and raised her head with a smile. "Oh, Hazel, how I've missed your own special ways of being impertinent."

Hazel watched Cora reach over and take her hand, half incredulous. It was almost as if she viewed her as a friend. This thought touched Hazel at her very core. She hesitated, then squeezed Cora's hand gently. When she didn't pull her hand away, Hazel held it in hers. When she looked up again, she saw that Cora was watching her with a soft expression on her face. Hazel smiled at her and said, "Lord Grantham tells me that you're carrying another child, my lady."

"Yes. Quite unexpected, I'll assure you." Cora laughed lightly, but fidgeted a little.

Remembering what this sort of behavior meant, Hazel inquired, "Why, what's the matter, your ladyship? Aren't you happy?"

Cora clutched tighter to Hazel's hand. "Brilliantly happy. Lord Grantham and I both. But our family…." She shook her head. "The reaction hasn't been as joyful as we'd hoped."

"Well, I think it's marvelous news, my lady. And as much as I think this probably hurts you, Lady Grantham, that your family may not be enthusiastic about the news, take strength from the knowledge that you and Lord Grantham are happy about it, and that's all that really matters. This is your child, and it will have two loving parents."

Finally pulling her handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe her eyes properly, Cora remarked, "How do you always know the right thing to say to make me feel better?"

Hazel beamed under such praise. "Well, it's only what I'd want someone to say to me under such circumstances, your ladyship."

At this juncture, Cora's stomach rumbled loudly. "Speaking of expecting – I think someone is expecting food soon. Will you have tea with me?"

Hazel hesitated, but Cora's hopeful face conquered her reservations. "Of course, your ladyship. I'll ring for it." She let go of Cora's hand and crossed the room to the bell cord, pulling it. She stood there a moment, remembering something. "Do you still hide food everywhere, my lady?"

Cora chortled. "I'm surprised you recall that bit of lunacy, as my husband would call it. No, I haven't begun that yet, although I'm sure my hunger will drive me to do so again at some point in the coming months. It's difficult being pregnant and having to wait on someone to bring you what you want when you're hungry."

When the tea arrived, Hazel sat again so they could have a good long catch up. They talked and laughed together, speaking of their lives since Hazel left to get married, and reminiscing about the days she'd lived at Downton.

After a while, Cora felt bold enough to ask Hazel something she'd always been curious about. "You were happy, weren't you? In your marriage? From your letters, I think you were, but stopped speaking of it after Edward passed away. It simply made me wonder – especially because of the things you said to me before you left. About love."

Hazel took a deep breath, then nodded. "Yes, I was happy. _We_ were happy. I had fourteen glorious years with my Edward. But – it leaves a hole in your heart, doesn't it? An emptiness that can never be filled with anything else. Memories fill it only little. It became difficult to speak about those lovely things, especially in the beginning. But I'm healing, my lady. That hole will never go away, but I'd rather have that hole there, half-filled with happy memories of love, then a whole heart that never was touched by it."

Cora inclined her head slowly, tears trembling on her lashes. "I know what you mean. Losing someone you love so dearly. I have holes in my heart too."

Looking up, Hazel furrowed her brow in confusion at Cora's use of the plural. But then she thought she knew what she meant: not only Sybil, but the son she'd lost. For a long time, neither woman said a word, simply clasped one another's hands in silent empathy and comfort.

Finally, Cora broke the silence. "Do you remember the first letter you sent me? I believe it was a few weeks after you left to get married."

"Vaguely, my lady." A smile started to form at the corners of Hazel's mouth.

"You can't know how much that letter – all your letters really – meant. To be able to know that letting you go meant that you could make a home with someone who adored you." Cora began to smirk.

Hazel tilted her head. "I'm not sure I ever said he adored me, your ladyship."

Cora giggled. "You didn't have to say it. In that first letter you included a post script. You marked through it, but I could still read it. I believe that you meant me to, actually."

Thinking a moment, Hazel's eyes widened and she blushed deeply. "Oh. Well, yes." She lowered her eyes and grinned. "The walls proved sturdy over the long haul too, my lady."

Putting a hand over her mouth, Cora continued to giggle. "I still have the letter, in fact. All of them. Sometimes I take them out and re-read them. It's like visiting a friend. One who always makes me laugh."

"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that, Lady Grantham. Letters are meant not only to give news but to comfort and entertain." Hazel watched as Cora's expression transformed from giddiness to sadness again.

"Sometimes they don't do that though, do they?" Cora stood up from the chaise and walked to her dressing table. She pulled out a letter and handed it to Hazel. "I got this almost two weeks ago. It – it broke my heart."

Hazel read the letter, then read through it again. She gave it back to Cora with a sigh. Sarah O'Brien had never been one of her favorite people.

Cora tucked the letter back into her dressing table drawer. "Now, not only won't I really know why she left, but I have to find a lady's maid." She was making herself comfortable on the chaise once more when Hazel stood, her countenance one of complete bewilderment.

"But, Lady Grantham, don't you understand?"

Mirroring her look now, Cora shook her head. "Understand what? Lord Grantham insists that I find a new lady's maid."

Hazel wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "But that's why I'm here. _I'm_ the new lady's maid. I'm here to resume my old post."

"I – I thought the surprise was a visit." Comprehension dawned on Cora's face. "You're here – to stay? What about the shop? Your home?"

"My lady, Edward left half the shop to one of his long-standing apprentices and half to me. Andrew – the apprentice – bought my share of the business a year ago, as I wanted to retire. But I got bored. I was picking up alterations for a while, to try to break up the monotony, but you can't imagine how relieved I was to receive Lord Grantham's letter." Hazel smiled. "As for the house, your ladyship, Andrew's lived there for a long time; he's been rather like a son in many respects. He'll keep a room for me, for when I visit. But, even though I left it, I've always thought of Downton as my home too. So I simply traded one home for another."

Cora's eyes shone. "Then, I'm so happy to have you home."

* * *

It was nearly time for the dressing gong when Robert knocked on the bedroom door. "Cora?"

"Come in, Robert!" she sang out.

He opened the door and laughed at the sight that met him. "Goodness, you two, what on earth are you doing?" Cora sat on the bed surrounded by piles of her clothes, and Hazel stood at the now nearly empty armoire, holding a dress.

"We're going through my things, darling," Cora explained brightly. "We needed to figure out what to pack away and what to alter – and what new things I'll need." She bounded up off the bed and placed a kiss on his cheek, whispering, "Thank you again, my love. For bringing her back. I can't imagine a better situation."

Hazel watched the pair through lowered lashes, folding the dress over her arm as she waited for Cora to return to their task. The lady's maid had learned about love from careful observation of this couple, and she couldn't be happier that through everything they'd been through, this particular love affair appeared intact. It made her chest swell with a feeling akin to pride to see Robert gently touch his wife's cheek with such a loving look, to see Cora take her husband's hand and lead him to a chair so he could share in their fun.

"Do you know which heap of garments is which?" he teased, laughing again as she resumed her place on the bed.

"Hush," Cora replied, throwing a pillow at him.

Robert caught it neatly and wrapped his arms around it with a grin.

"Now, Hazel, let's –" Cora cocked her head to the side. "Wait, should I have been calling you Mrs. Haverty all this time?"

Grinning, Hazel answered, "You may call me whatever name you wish, Lady Grantham. Although I think his lordship has already decided which name he feels most comfortable with."

Cora looked at him. "You did?"

He nodded. "Yes, I did. I asked if it would be alright if I continued to call her 'Perkins' – as she will always be Perkins to me."

Turning back to Hazel, Cora asked, "I've thought of you as Hazel for so long now, as we've been exchanging letters…. Might I call you that? I'll refer to you as Perkins in front of the others, if you would feel more comfortable."

"I would like that very much, my lady, if it's acceptable to his lordship." She turned her beaming face to Robert.

"Oh, I don't mind. Whatever makes my darling wife happy." He smiled at Cora. "Of course, it's well that she'll call you 'Perkins' outside of the room, because if Carson ever heard…" He waggled his eyebrows at his wife.

Cora laughed. "Right. Hazel, back to it. Carson will be ringing the dressing gong any moment, and we haven't found anything for me to wear to dinner yet."

Robert sat up a little straighter. "Oh, I hope you don't mind, Cora, but I invited Isobel for dinner tonight."

As she was concentrating on the dress that Hazel held up, Cora motioned absent-mindedly at him with her hand. "Sure, darling. It will be nice to see her again." She screwed her face up at the dress. "Do you think you can alter it? It may have another month at least of wear in it if it can be let out."

Hazel flipped the dress inside out to examine it more thoroughly. "It's possible, my lady, but I think your dressmaker might be better suited to handle it. It's been a long time since I did this kind of alteration to women's clothing."

"Well, hand it here, and I'll put it on the dressmaker pile." Cora held her hand out to the lady's maid.

After giving her the dress, Hazel retrieved another from the armoire. This one was sleeveless, a rich chocolate brown with a shorter hemline. The back dipped very low, fabric draped in artful folds around it. As she held it up, Hazel saw her mistress blush, grinning widely. At the same time, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Robert beginning to smirk. Then they looked at one another, their eyes locking. They appeared to be exchanging secret messages between them, perhaps even reliving a memory. Then Cora's eyes dropped, her blush deepening. Many years ago, witnessing this might have made Hazel herself follow suit, embarrassed, but she'd long ago given up minding what she saw pass between the two. To her, only her own love affair had been as beautiful as the one of Lord and Lady Grantham.

"Perkins," Robert said, his eyes never leaving his wife's face, "I do hope there is a way for her ladyship to be able to wear that dress a little while longer. You haven't seen how utterly magnificent she looks in it."

Cora raised her eyes to look into his again. "Would you like me to wear it tonight? I am fairly certain I can still wear it, and we're already quite scandalous anyway, aren't we?" She placed a hand over her abdomen.

"Well, as there is no one to ogle you this time except perhaps Tom…." He couldn't seem to wipe the grin off his face.

"Oh, I don't think Tom would do that." She smiled at him.

"No, but the footmen might. Perhaps even Carson." He was teasing her now.

"I'm sure that if any footmen ogle me, you will take care of it, won't you, my dear protector?"

Hazel looked from one to the other, quite certain they had forgotten she was in the room. She couldn't seem to wipe the grin off her own face at this.

"Wear it. I'd love to see Isobel's face, actually." He winked at her.

Cora's peal of laughter hit Hazel's ears like so many glorious bells. "I don't think she'll be as scandalized as our own daughter."

His lips twitched. "I don't care if they all are." His voice became low, husky.

The lady's maid wondered if she should interrupt before she witnessed another scene she really shouldn't. Fortunately, the dressing gong sounded at that precise moment.

Evidently remembering he and his wife weren't alone, Robert cleared his throat. "Well, now that decision is made, I should go to my dressing room. Excuse me…."

Hazel noticed that he kept the pillow placed strategically in front of himself as he exited to his dressing room. Shaking her head as she watched Cora keep blushing profusely, she said under her breath, "Yes, some things never change. Thank the good Lord for that."

* * *

"Well. That was certainly interesting."

"To say the least." Robert tugged at the shoulder of Cora's dress, replacing it with his lips.

Cora replied with a soft sigh and a tilting of her head to give him greater access to her throat, clavicle, and shoulder.

"I think you may have reminded Tom of Sybil, darling," he whispered. "Her shocking frocks and outfits…."

"Why do you say that?" she breathed, only half paying attention.

He successfully slid the shoulder of her dress down and continued his attentions to her porcelain skin. "He was grinning at you the entire evening. Not in any impertinent way – just in a way that made me think he was seeing the resemblance..."

Cora pulled back a little to stare at him, tears in her eyes. "You think Sybil resembled me?"

Robert stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Where else would she get her spirit – her fire?" he asked.

She gave him a tender look. "I don't know. Her papa with the fiery temper?"

"No, my heart. It was from you." Tears sparkled in his own eyes.

Cora wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. "And what about the others?"

"The others?" Robert pressed soft kisses all along her jawline. "I hate to say it, but I think Isobel was remarkably unmoved. I was rather disappointed by that. I think the only one who was actually scandalized was Edith."

She chuckled. "Well. I can't blame her. I don't think she's ever seen so much of her mama's skin before."

Robert turned her in his arms, his hands resting on her stomach, trailing kisses down to her shoulder blades. "And what beautiful skin it is too…." His tongue joined his lips as he moved down her spine, giving her shivers of delight.

Cora rested her hands upon his, panting as he reached the lowest part of the dress. "I don't think Edith cares about that, Robert."

"She might not, but I do." Withdrawing one hand from her stomach, his fingers pulled the draping fabric down farther, until he'd kissed down to the small of her back.

"Well," she said, closing her eyes. "Well," she repeated, unable to say much else.

"Shall I ring for Perkins?" he breathed, his tongue tracing a delicate pattern over her lower back.

"No. No, you shan't," she said, endeavoring to keep her wits about her. "I told her that – for now – night lady's maid duty was yours alone."

Spinning her around abruptly in his arms, he drew her closer to himself. She could feel how very much he desired her, as his arousal pressed against her hip through their clothing. "My God, Cora," he breathed. "I'd be the lowest servant in your retinue, if you let me attend you for even one hour a day."

Cora sighed heavily in his ear before saying, "Only an hour?" She let out a low chuckle before whispering, "Show me what you would do with one hour of my day, my love."

Sliding his hands down to gently squeeze her bottom, his darkened eyes met hers and held her gaze. "I may have to risk being seen impudent and take more than an hour," he said in a gruff voice.

Pulling his head down to nip at his earlobe, she said, "Be impudent."

Lifting her up, his heart going faster as she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, he answered, "Yes, my lady."

* * *

Determined to settle into her duties as quickly as possible, knowing her mistress needed stability especially for her pregnancy, Hazel consulted with Anna and Mrs. Hughes concerning how things had been working since O'Brien had gone. Mrs. Hughes could see the simplicity and steady energy that she remembered about Hazel, and she had no doubt the returning lady's maid would seamlessly take over the tasks that had been allotted temporarily to Anna and herself. The housekeeper thought how fortunate it was that Lord Grantham had thought of asking Hazel to come back to her old position, how fortunate it was that she was willing to do so. The transition would be much easier: Hazel knew the house, knew its mistress and master, and even knew Carson and Mrs. Hughes from when they were housemaid and footman. Both butler and housekeeper were grateful to have Hazel rejoin the staff. They well remembered her efficiency and her kindness. They also knew that, although she had been there at a time when she'd ranked over both of them, she would defer to their authority as the heads of staff.

So, even that first night, after dinner in the servants' hall and unpacking her own things, Hazel collected clean linens from the laundry and made her way upstairs to put them away in Cora's linen closet in the hall near her bedroom. Once she'd done this – and made mental notes as to what else needed to be done tomorrow to get the closet into better order – she started back. Just outside Cora's bedroom, a noise made her pause. Taking a step closer to the door, she listened carefully as several high pitched squeaks and low groans reached her ears. Covering her mouth so her giggles couldn't be heard, Hazel turned and ambled back downstairs.

Entering the servants' hall, Hazel noticed Mr. Bates and Anna sitting at the table, a pot of tea between them. "Well, hello, you two. You're still here?"

Bates nodded. "His lordship hasn't rung for me yet."

Hazel's mouth twitched with the effort of keeping her laughter to herself. "Will you stay here all night if he doesn't?"

Allowing himself a low chuckle, laugh lines appearing around his eyes, Bates replied. "Oh no. He and Mr. Carson decided that if he hasn't rung by a certain hour, then Anna and I go home. If Lord Grantham rings after that, Mr. Carson attends to him himself."

"It sounds like an acceptable arrangement," Hazel grinned.

"It's a very generous arrangement, if you ask me," said Anna. "His lordship was very kind in his allowing us to have a cottage of our own. My own mistress, Lady Mary, as well."

Hazel smiled, about to tell Anna a story about Lady Mary as a child, but just then Mrs. Hughes came into the room. "Ah, I was hoping to catch you. Might we have tea in my sitting room?" she asked Hazel.

"I'd like that very much."

"Well, it's all ready. If you'll go on and pour yourself a cup, I have to speak to Mr. Carson about one small matter. I'll be just behind you." Mrs. Hughes glanced at the clock, then turned to Bates and Anna. "One of those nights? You'll be going home within half an hour, I'll wager. Goodnight to you both then."

Hazel added her own goodnight before slipping down the hall to the housekeeper's sitting room. She poured a cup for herself, as instructed, and sat. Going over the events of the day in her head, remembering the noises she'd heard from the hallway, she grinned as she sipped her tea. She'd always loved knowing that her mistress had a happy marriage. And she was content in the knowledge that she still did.

She looked up from her brown study as Mrs. Hughes came in and shut the door behind her. "Now. They've decided to continue with 'Perkins' have they?" The housekeeper smiled warmly as she settled back in her chair with her tea.

"Yes, although I'll mention to you, if you don't tell Mr. Carson, that her ladyship wants to call me 'Hazel' away from the others. I tell you in case she slips at some point. Her pregnancy may make her forget." Hazel chuckled.

"Well, I hope you'll call me Elsie when we're here alone in this sitting room, and I'll call you Hazel. I've enjoyed your letters so, and I am very glad that my friend has returned." Mrs. Hughes put a hand lightly on Hazel's.

Hazel's grin widened. "Elsie it is, then."

Mrs. Hughes straightened again, sipping her tea. "So, Hazel. How does it feel to be back?"

Putting her empty tea cup on the table, Hazel sighed contentedly. "It's wonderful to be home again."

* * *

A/N: Hazel Perkins Haverty is a character strictly from my own imagination, created for another of my fics, "An Affair of the Heart." There I fell in love with her – and I think several of my other readers did as well. I couldn't think of a better, more humorous replacement for O'Brien than she. It was only later, after I had assigned her to this chapter and this color to it and her, that I realized that her name, Hazel, is a type of brown. Fate appears in all kinds of ways….

Brown: "hearth, home, reliability, comfort, endurance, stability, simplicity"


	5. Blue

December, 1921

She was supposed to be writing. Edith's editor would expect an article for her column to be done by sometime tomorrow, but instead of putting pen to paper, she sat at her desk and stared out the window above it. That the sun shone in a bright blue sky and made the gardens look warm and inviting gave Edith only a stronger impression that even Mother Nature mocked her pain.

_Even nature is described as a mother_, Edith thought, shaking her head. Glancing down, she saw a corner of a letter which bore the scribbled signature "Michael Gregson" protruding from beneath the blank sheet she'd placed on top in order to write. She shifted the paper so that the entire missive was hidden from her eyes.

If only she could so easily hide all the things in her life that caused her pain.

Michael's letter came in the morning post. Edith carried it upstairs to open it, as she wasn't sure if this epistle from her editor would be related to work – or not. She didn't want her father to see any reaction she might have to a personal letter.

This proved a wise decision, as Michael's communication was most certainly not about her column. He wanted her to move to London.

Wild thoughts chased one another around Edith's head. On one hand, she would love to be closer to him – and, at this point, away from her family. On the other hand, even in London they would not be able to be open about their affair. He was married. There was no getting around that.

Not that their affair had gone very far. Edith had been very careful about not crossing certain lines. She knew that if she became pregnant by her married editor…. She may as well shoot her father right then and there. Quite possibly her mother as well.

Edith had to make a decision that she simply did not know how to make.

At the knock at her door, Edith gave herself a little shake. "Yes?"

"Edith," came her mama's voice. "They'll be here any moment. Aren't you coming to greet them?"

"I'll be down in a few minutes, Mama." Edith sighed and stood up. Making sure Michael's letter was completely covered, she left the room.

* * *

Edith stood back while her family members kissed and embraced and pressed one another's hands in welcome. She watched the display, but felt detached from it. She may as well have been in the line of servants on the other side of the door. Except even they received warm greetings, particularly from Mary. After a few moments, the family group started going inside, pairing off. Cora linked arms with her eldest daughter, and Matthew gave his own mother his arm. Rosamund – with whom Mary and Matthew had spent several days in London upon their return to England, and who decided to travel up (a bit earlier than she normally would have) with them for the Christmas holidays – walked with Robert. Violet magnanimously allowed Tom to accompany her, Sybbie perched on his hip.

Feeling dejected and invisible, Edith followed them inside to the drawing room for tea. She'd suspected Mary and Matthew's homecoming would not help her out of her recent blue funk. So far, she was right.

Violet waved her hand at Edith. "Stop moping. It's very unbecoming." She gestured to the place beside her on the settee.

Several weeks had passed after Robert and Violet's clash at the Dower House before the Dowager Countess condescended to grace Downton with her presence again. She refused to talk directly to her son, and her icily civil exchanges with Cora rankled Robert – and reminded him all too well of his daughter's continued behavior toward her mother. Violet was hardly much warmer to Tom, and her conduct toward Isobel remained unchanged. The only person Violet seemed able to tolerate for any stretch was Edith.

At first Edith took this as a compliment – and as a welcome distraction. As her mother's pregnancy began to show, it made the whole thing seem more tangible. This delighted her parents, who, if it was possible, grew closer and – to their daughter's great chagrin – more publicly affectionate. Violet's attention to her granddaughter, her inattention to Robert and Cora, came to Edith as a relief.

But in the past week or so, her granny's company had begun to wear on her. She asked questions that Edith would rather not have answered and spoke of things of which she did not want to be reminded. She criticized her granddaughter, and every strike of her razor-sharp tongue drained Edith of strength and color and warmth until she thought she would turn blue with cold.

Despite this, she sat at Violet's invitation. Within a few moments Sybbie approached her and tugged on her dress. "Ann-ee-dit hold Sybbie!" It didn't matter that the little girl looking up into her face had mostly likely come to her aunt as a last resort because everyone else was too busy or engrossed in conversation to pay her any attention. Edith lifted the toddler onto her lap and cuddled her close.

After a time, Violet's voice broke through Edith's thoughts. "Edith, you haven't heard one word I've said, have you?"

Edith blinked to bring her focus back to Violet's face. "I'm sorry, Granny. My mind was wandering." She wrapped her arms tighter around Sybbie, who was nearly asleep against her chest.

Violet gave a "humph" of annoyance. "Perhaps you should acquire a leash for it," she snapped. Before Edith could reply, her grandmother was hoisting herself up with the aid of her cane. Tom sprang forward, but she waved him away. "I'm going home now," she announced to the room.

Cora turned from where she and Mary were ensconced in a corner together. "But you'll be back for dinner, Mama, right?"

Sparing only the briefest of glances for her daughter-in-law, Violet made her way to the door. "I think not. All this frivolity has given me a headache."

Mary cut her eyes at her mother knowingly. "I'll walk her out, Mama. She'll complain for ages if no one does, and she's already shooed away the only other volunteer." Putting her tea cup down with a smile, she joined her granny at the doorway of the drawing room.

* * *

In the middle of the last course, Edith wondered if anyone would notice if she left the room for all the attention she got. Everyone seemed to be in their element. Isobel couldn't stop smiling to have her son home. Robert monopolized Mary, asking to hear of their escapades in New York and Newport. Cora ate unbelievable amounts of food, she and Tom entertaining Rosamund with stories about Sybbie, and the three of them discussing plans for the baby. Rosamund, it was discovered almost three weeks after the news, had never received the telegram; one of her footmen had misplaced it. He was her footman no more, and Rosamund had immediately sent a very elaborate gift to express her congratulations and excitement over the news.

And as if being ignored by all her family weren't enough, throughout dinner Mary and Matthew made eyes at one other. If they were trying to be surreptitious about it, then they'd failed, at least so far as Edith was concerned.

Her parents, too, made eyes at each other across the table, her mother blushing and both of them grinning. Neither of them seemed to care to be discrete. It was almost more than Edith could bear.

Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, Rosamund blurted out, very loudly, "Robert, that's the third time you've kicked me tonight. Kindly either stop that or aim a little farther to the left. Your foot, though unshod, still hurts."

For a full minute, no one said a word. Robert grew bright red, while Cora's own blush deepened. Isobel looked blankly from Rosamund and Cora to Robert, and Tom grimaced with the effort of keeping a straight face. Rosamund merely began eating again, her point having been made. Mary and Matthew broke the silence as they started laughing, prompting everyone – except Rosamund and a mortified Edith – to laugh with them.

Edith decided she could take no more. Standing abruptly, she threw her serviette down beside her plate. "If everyone will excuse me, I'm not feeling well, and I'll go to bed now," she declared over their laughter, hurrying out of the room before anyone could stop her.

Once upstairs, she slammed her bedroom door behind her and, without even bothering to turn on a lamp, curled up on her bed, pulling the blankets over her head, willing the blue darkness of the room to swallow her whole.

* * *

A silence fell over the dining room after Edith's sudden exit. Cora looked at Robert. "I should go to her."

Suspecting he knew what had triggered his daughter's precipitate departure, Robert shook his head. "She'll be fine, Cora. You can check on her later."

Cora appeared torn. "But –"

Robert kept shaking his head. "Please, darling, don't let this interrupt the rest of dinner." He knew he probably sounded somewhat unkind, but he couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. Edith's behavior of late made him disinclined to accept her outburst as anything other than a fit of pique at her family.

Sighing, Cora settled back in her chair, an expression of mild concern still on her face.

Cora pleaded fatigue not long after everyone had assembled in the library after dinner. Now it was Robert's turn to look concerned. Meeting her at the door, he took her hand and bent close to her, speaking in a low voice. "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

She gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand. "Yes, my dear. It's just been a long day, and I want to check on Edith before I ring for Perkins."

"I'll be up in just a while, Cora." He lowered his voice even more. "You'll have Perkins start you on your bath, and I'll relieve her before you're done? As we've been doing?"

"Yes, thank you, my love." She kissed his cheek, then let go of his hand. "Goodnight, everyone," she repeated in a louder voice before leaving the room.

Going upstairs, Cora knocked on her daughter's door. "Edith? Darling?"

Edith sighed. The last person she wanted to see – besides possibly Mary – was her mother. She stayed silent, hoping her mother would go away.

Knocking again, Cora called, "Are you alright? I just wanted to make sure you're not ill."

Hearing the worried edge to her mother's voice – even through the door – Edith pulled the covers down low enough to disclose her face and call out, "I'm alright, Mama. It's just a headache. I'll be fine."

"Well, if it doesn't go soon, let someone know." She paused there, her head bowed, hoping a headache was all that was wrong. "Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight, Mama." Relieved that she seemed to have convinced her mother not to come in, Edith pulled the bedclothes over her head once more and screwed her eyes shut, wishing the wave of sadness would either disappear or drown her in its deep blue depths.

Cora went on to her bedroom and rang for Perkins. While Hazel's presence calmed her – as it always did – Cora still felt as if her daughter was hiding something, and it troubled her.

"Sweetheart?" Robert called when he closed the door to the bedroom behind him a while later.

Hazel stepped out of the washroom with a smile. "She's just gotten settled in the bath, my lord."

Her kind face drew a smile from Robert. "Thank you, Perkins. I'll take over from here then."

With a nod, Perkins turned to bid Cora goodnight and gather the dirty laundry, bid Robert goodnight as well, then left the room.

Robert went into the washroom, taking off his jacket and laying it across the back of a chair. Kneeling next to the bath, he gave his wife a tender kiss and then leaned back to bask in her answering smile. "How are you, my love?"

She nodded, touching his hand where he had it on the edge of the bath. "I'm fine. I'm just worried about Edith."

"She's not ill, is she?" He wondered if he'd been wrong about her reasons for leaving the dinner table.

"I don't think so. When I went to check on her, she said it was just a headache and she'd be fine, so I let her be." Cora watched her forefinger trace along the back of his hand. "But I'm not worried only from tonight. She's become so distant, Robert. Hasn't she?" She looked up at him.

Robert nodded slowly. "She has." He thought back to the day he confronted Edith, remembering how unhappy she'd sounded.

"I feel as if it's my fault somehow," she whispered, lowering her eyes. "I don't want to lose another daughter, Robert."

Her statement jabbed him in the heart. He moved his hand under her chin and tilted her head upward so he could look into her eyes. They shone an almost impossibly bright blue with tears. "Cora, you've done nothing wrong, and I hope you won't let yourself think that you have. And Edith may well be a bit lost right now. But she'll make her way again. I don't think she wants to be lost. It may simply be one of those things where she can't see clearly – can't see that people are extending their hands to help lead her back. She'll have to find her own way." Robert hadn't actually thought about it in quite that way until he said it, but it rang true to him. Caressing her cheek, he added, "You haven't lost her. She may have lost herself."

"Oh, Robert. If that's true, then I do wish she'd find her way again. It breaks my heart to see her distant and sad."

Robert pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Mine too, darling. Mine too." He gazed at her again, his thumb running lightly along her cheek. "Will you be alright while I get ready for bed? I'll hurry Bates as best I can and come help you out."

Cora nodded, giving him the faintest smile. But at least it was a smile. He stood and picked up his jacket, walking out to his dressing room.

* * *

In the week leading up to Christmas, Edith remained detached from the others, her mood gloomy. Instead of feeling joyful because of the upcoming holidays, her blue funk became worse, particularly in light of Mary and Matthew's being home again. She avoided speaking to everyone, and – with the exception of a few failed attempts on her parents' part to include her – they barely deigned to acknowledge her existence. Even her granny had found a new conversation partner in Aunt Rosamund.

_Being nearly invisible has its advantages, though_, she thought several times over the week. People did things in front of her they didn't think she paid attention to. The most interesting were the looks that Mary cast her mother – and the now obvious baby bump – when she thought no one else was looking. Edith would not have been surprised if Mary's expression had been jealous. But it wasn't. It was more like…resentment toward her. A resentment that, apart from these unguarded moments, Mary kept very carefully hidden.

The other thing she noticed was the sadness on her mother's face. It was the same look that Edith had noticed before she'd found out she was pregnant. Her mama didn't have the expression very often, but when she did, somehow Edith suspected she'd been the one to cause it. When, on Christmas Eve, she caught her mother staring at her, this very same look on her face, she was sure.

She hated knowing she was hurting her mother. The awful part was that the more she realized this, the more withdrawn she became.

Michael's letter still sat on her desk, unanswered. She'd read it so many times that she had it memorized. But somehow its contents did little to cheer her. He, too, was yet another reminder of what she did not have – and could probably never have with him. The letter taunted her.

If she had not been so depressed otherwise, Edith might have genuinely enjoyed Christmas Day. Sybbie was old enough to understand now, and having her in their midst – with her joyful squawking and delighted clapping – simply gave a magic to the day that hadn't been there in a long time. The year before, Tom had taken Sybbie to see his brother in Liverpool for Christmas, but even if he hadn't, she would have been too young to be the self-selected leader of festivities that she was this day.

Even Cora seemed able to keep the far away look off her face today. She kept exchanging happy glances with Robert, no doubt dreaming of a few years off, when their own toddler would be squealing with glee over dolls and tea sets or blocks and teddy bears wrapped in colorful paper. Watching her mama rest her hands over her stomach and lower her eyes with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, Edith felt herself soften toward her. She remembered this about her mother when, for those few short weeks, she'd known she was pregnant with the baby she then lost. And Edith imagined that she had been the same way when she'd carried Mary or Sybil – or herself. Already protective and loving and glowing as she thought of the small life inside. The realization nearly brought Edith to tears.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of royal blue. Mary wore the tissue-fine blue silk embroidered shawl that their papa had given her for Christmas the year before. And Edith saw the same expression of resentment cross her sister's face. It made Edith wonder.

As Sybbie had begged her papa, grandmama, and grandfather in most vehement tones to let her eat Christmas dinner with the adults, she now sat with them, holding court as she had all day. The only one who seemed immune to her charms was Violet. However, her great-grandmother kept her complaints largely to herself, simply rolling her eyes every so often and muttering about how the little girl had wrapped the lot of them around her finger. That she didn't merely get up and leave for the Dower House served as a testament to how much Sybbie had Violet under her spell too.

When Sybbie fell asleep with her little cheek resting on the table before the second course, Cora laughed lightly and suggested Tom take her up to bed. Before he left he brought her over to her grandmother for a kiss on her flushed cheek and a whispered, "Happy Christmas, my little angel. Grandmama loves you."

After they finished dinner and the men had joined the ladies in the library, nearly everyone appeared as exhausted as Sybbie must have been earlier. They'd not had a small child in the house for Christmas morning in a long time, so they'd gotten used to sleeping in. They had forgotten how much the day could wear on them when they got up early. Isobel and Violet left first, followed by the others, one by one or two by two, until the only one left in the library was Edith.

All of the other lights in the room were turned out for the night, so she stared into the fire, ruminating over the day, the past week, the past several years. She sat close to the hearth, but the night had turned bitterly cold, and she couldn't seem to get warm. Spotting Mary's blue shawl that she'd left on the settee, she wound it around her neck, smelling her sister's perfume. She had tried to get along with Mary after Sybil died. Sometimes it worked. They forgot the past long enough to try to see the people they'd each become. But most of the time it was a tiring stalemate.

Edith tensed when she heard voices. They increased in volume as the owners of the voices approached the library entrance on the opposite side of the room from where Edith sat. Mary and Matthew. Edith stared in wonder as they stepped into the library, obviously not aware that she still sat there on one of the settees. They stopped just inside the door, caught up in their argument. The subject of their quarrel was clear within a few moments, and Edith found herself unable to move.

"Don't you understand how ridiculous it is, Matthew?"

"Mary, there's nothing we can do about it. Your mother and father didn't do this on purpose." He endeavored to remain calm.

Mary, however, raised her voice. "Of course they didn't! But how can you not be upset? What if the baby is a boy?"

"We've been over this for more than a month. If the baby is a boy, then he is the heir. Plain and simple."

"What about all the money you put into the estate? What about our children, Matthew, our sons?" Her hair was disheveled and her face red in her upset state.

"Mary," Matthew's voice began to gain a dangerous growling quality as he began to lose his patience, "I never wanted that money to begin with. _You_ wanted me to take it, and _you_ wanted me to invest it. I am ready to take my place as the Earl of Grantham if I must, but I was not raised to that expectation, and I'm more than content to go back to law and a quiet life somewhere."

"I can't stand to think that after all this you won't be Earl. No, I can't bear it. I love my papa and mama, but this is too much. They should have prevented this. If they have a son, I don't know how I'll ever speak to Mama again." Mary's hands shook, balled up in fists at her sides.

Edith could be silent no longer. She stood up and walked to the pair. Mary's face took on a look of horror as she realized that they'd been heard.

"Mary, how can you be so selfish?" Edith's voice trembled, but it became ever steadier as she continued, meeting her sister's eyes unabashedly. "Do you really think that Mama became pregnant to hurt you? To take something away from you and Matthew? Do you think she did it deliberately? I've seen how you look at her, Mary. The bitterness and resentment you aim at her when she's not looking." Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, remembering her father's words to her, hearing herself repeat many of them now to Mary, and recognizing now how true they were and how horrible she must have sounded to him. "Don't you understand that they're happy? That they want to share that happiness with us? We're their children. And we're Crawleys. Crawleys are supposed to stick together." She shook her head as Mary gaped at her in shock. "But you – you apparently don't know what that means anymore. I think you did, once, but now…. For the first time, I'm truly ashamed to call you my sister."

Unwinding the blue shawl from her neck, she threw it on the floor at her sister's feet. Then she rushed out of the room, practically running up the stairs.

When she got to her mother's door, Edith couldn't keep herself from knocking repeatedly. "Mama, please open the door. I need to talk to you," she cried, knowing she was about to sob.

"Just – just a minute, Edith," she heard from her mother.

Edith pressed her palms and forehead against the door, unable to check her tears anymore. When Cora opened it a few minutes later, Edith threw herself into her arms so hard that it almost knocked the breath out of her.

"Edith, darling, what's the matter? What's brought this on?" Cora held her in a tight embrace, pulling her more fully into the room and closing the door.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I'm so very sorry," she choked out through her sobs. "I've been dreadful to you, and… I didn't mean it, Mama. I didn't mean it."

Cora rubbed her daughter's back consolingly. "Oh, Edith," she whispered, not sure what else to say.

Edith wound her mama's dark tresses around her fingers as her tears dropped on the shoulder of her dressing gown. "I didn't know how to be happy for you – for you and Papa – when I was so desperately unhappy."

Swallowing against the lump forming in her throat, Cora whispered, "I wish I knew how to make you happier, Edith. You're my daughter, and seeing you so despondent makes me ache for you. I love you so much, you see."

"Oh, Mama. I love you too. I don't want to be selfish." She sniffled. "You've always been here for me, and I need to be here for you too."

Cora withdrew her arms from around her daughter so she could put her hands on either side of her face and wipe her tears gently. "My darling girl, I'm so happy I haven't lost you."

Edith met her mother's blue eyes, finally calming down. "No, Mama. You could never lose me. But I might have been lost. I might still be a little lost."

A shiver went through Cora at hearing Robert's words repeated nearly verbatim by Edith's own lips. He had perceived something or heard something from their daughter that she had not. "I'm sorry for not paying more attention to you, Edith."

She shook her head gently, her face still cradled in her mama's hands. "No, Mama. You tried."

"If you need help, to find you way, please let us, dearest girl. Please." Cora gave herself over to her own tears now.

Edith took one hand from Cora's hair and pulled her handkerchief from her pocket, wiping her mother's eyes. She chuckled lightly. "I will, Mama. If you forgive me for how I've acted."

Cora smiled. "Of course I do, Edith. I'm your mama, and I will always forgive you." Drawing her daughter into a tight embrace once more, she sighed against her hair. "I'm so happy I haven't lost you," she repeated in a nearly inaudible whisper.

"I love you, Mama."

Within a half hour, Edith had gone back to her room, splashed her face with water, and changed into her night dress. By the soft light of her desk lamp, she took up her pen.

The communication was brief, spelled out as clearly as Edith knew how, in deep blue ink.

_Dear Michael,_

_I'm afraid I'll be unable to move to London. Not at the current time, and not any time in the foreseeable future. My family needs me, and my loyalty and my affection lie with them._

_You have been very kind to me, but I cannot continue this way. I deserve more than you can give me. It's simply taken me this long to realise it._

_If you need to terminate my contract with the newspaper or assign me to a different editor, I understand. However, I hope you know that I do not require this, and my friendship for you remains steadfast. Even if it cannot be anything more._

_I do hope you understand, Michael. I wish you only the best._

_My sincerest regards,_

_Edith_

Edith read the letter over again before carefully folding it and placing it in an envelope. She sighed with a profound contentment that she'd done the right thing. Turning off the lamp, she went to her bed and slipped under the bedclothes, wondering if her parents' child would be a boy or girl – a brother or sister. She would be happy with either. She had a feeling her parents would too. She wasn't so sure about Mary. Shrugging, she nestled her head against her pillow and, her mind clearer and heart lighter than they had been in months, fell into a restful sleep.

* * *

Blue: "trust, security, loyalty, stability, affection, depression" – also, the color representing the Virgin Mary (just to throw that in there – although, I guess as she's not slept with Michael Gregson….)


	6. Purple

7 January, 1922

The morning of the servant's ball at Downton, Violet rose early. In fact, she'd been an early riser for many years – even before the War, despite her son's jests to the contrary.

Old age did that to you.

_Old age does a lot of things to you_, Violet mused as her lady's maid dressed her hair with careful fingers. With a sigh, Violet rubbed lavender-scented lotion into wrinkled, spotted hands, looking down at them. There were times she scarcely recognized her own body, her own face. To the latter she applied a few cosmetics. She didn't trust her maid to do this sparingly enough, so always did it herself.

While her maid finished with her coiffure (the woman had learned to take her time over it, to meet Violet's exacting standards, and, besides, what else had the Dowager Countess to do so early in the morning?), Violet stared at herself in the mirror. Normally she might read, but there were things that weighed on her mind of late, and she often found herself in the middle of a reverie at the oddest times. Her eyes moved from her own face to the luxury with which her bedroom was appointed. It was a beautiful room, everything in it carefully selected by herself. It had been some little consolation upon having to move here. In some ways, she wanted to leave Downton when her husband died. Yes, it had been her home for decades, but…. There were so many memories, both painful and pleasant.

Even having this new bedroom, one in which he'd never slept, comforted her in her grief. Not that he'd ever _slept_ in her bedroom at Downton. A husband and wife sleeping in the same room? It was so undignified – so _common_. No, the moments that Violet and Patrick had shared in her bedroom were more intimate than sleep. The ghost of a grin touched Violet's lips thinking of it. In spite of what her mother had told her to expect of that aspect of her marriage, she'd rather enjoyed the times her husband crept quietly into her room under the cover of the purple shadows and found his way under the sheets.

But, apart from a few times he'd fallen asleep with her after one of their more exhausting romps, he never purposely _slept_ in her room. And, eventually, she supposed, if he hadn't died when they were so young, he'd have stopped slipping into her room altogether.

Dismissing her maid, Violet reached into her jewelry box for her wedding rings. She put them on, twisting them around her fingers. She supposed every marriage was different. But how shocked she'd been when she realized that her own son and his wife slept together in the same bed – on purpose. And that was very well when Cora was young and meant to have children. Violet assumed they would begin sleeping apart eventually – even if it meant only keeping to their own sides of the bed, to put it delicately.

It became obvious that this was most certainly not the case, as Cora's surprise pregnancy seven years before had proved. Again, Violet assumed that losing the child would put an end to such shenanigans. And, if not, then the hardships of the intervening years would.

Apparently, she'd been wrong.

Violet wasn't used to being wrong. It vexed her. Of course, no one knew that she was wrong apart from herself. Yet it rankled her no less.

If she was to grow old, at least she should have the one thing that old age was supposed to guarantee: wisdom. Not that she hadn't known her share of ridiculously stupid old geezers and biddies. But of course, they were not the Dowager Countess of Grantham, were they?

Glancing at the clock, Violet clutched her cane and rose out of her chair. She might not be the Countess of Grantham anymore, and she might be getting older, but being the Dowager still had its own duties attached to it. Besides, she'd invited Rosamund for tea that afternoon. And she had to be certain the cook had baked the right tea cakes.

It would be another busy day. She hoped she wouldn't fall asleep during the ball that evening. In a way, she was looking forward to the event. But it also meant another night spent in the presence of her son and daughter-in-law. As she left the room to go pester her cook, Violet couldn't help but wonder what those two were up to this morning. _Probably still lying abed_, she thought ungenerously.

* * *

When Robert woke, he felt his stomach lurch to realize Cora wasn't in his arms. But when he opened his eyes, he smiled and made no other movement. His wife sat up against her pillows, pressing her hands carefully against her belly. Her eyes followed the motion of her hands, and her face glowed with a soft radiance. From his position on his side, facing her, he watched as she continued to examine her abdomen.

The past couple of weeks had been fairly happy ones. Robert had been pleasantly surprised by Mary and Matthew's happy acceptance of the baby news. The tornado that he expected from one or the other of them had never materialized.

Edith's apology appeared to have broken through some barrier she'd had built up against her parents. Robert had been on the other side of the dressing room door and heard all when Edith tearfully reconciled with her mother. Thus, when his daughter sought him out before breakfast the next day, it took very little time for the two of them to make up as well. He wasn't sure what had brought on Edith's change of heart, but he was certainly happy to accept it.

He only wished his mother would have a change of heart as well. Violet still stubbornly refused to speak to her son unless it was in a group setting. She had come to the house fewer than a handful of times since Mary and Matthew had arrived. And, although she'd invited various members of their family to the Dower House, Robert and Cora were conspicuous by their absence from these invitations. Robert thought that, two months after the announcement, she would have relented, if only a little.

But she hadn't. However, since she was the only one who refused to participate in anything to do with the baby, Robert was, on the whole, vastly contented. And as he observed his wife's glowing countenance and the way she now cradled her baby bump, he knew that the word "contented" was inadequate. He was marvelously happy.

After a while, Cora sensed that she wasn't the only one awake and turned her head to look at her husband, smiling.

"What are you doing way over there?" he asked.

"I woke a little earlier from a horrible hot flash, and I didn't want to disturb you."

Robert knew this was her way of saying that she'd been too hot to sleep next to him, but didn't like to tell him. "Are you cool enough now, darling?"

Cora nodded. "Yes." She chuckled. "If I wasn't I would still have my night dress off."

"I'm sorry I missed that," he said, smirking and moving closer to her. "And what are you doing now?"

She rubbed her hands across her bump. "I could feel the baby moving." Tears sprang to her eyes.

Robert sat up. "You could?" He looked from her eyes to her hands, tentatively moving his own hand closer.

"I think it's too soon yet for you to feel it, my love." But she smiled and took his hand, pressing it where she'd last felt movement.

After a moment, he nearly jumped. "I felt it!"

Cora laughed lightly. "No, darling, that was my stomach. I'm ravenous." Watching his face fall, she added, "It won't be too much longer, Robert, and you'll be able to feel it too. You'll be the first one I let feel the baby. Alright?"

Robert touched her cheek with his other hand. "Alright. Should I ri– Cora, what are you doing?"

She'd leaned over to her bedside table, leaving his hand on her stomach, and opened the drawer. She pulled out a parcel and proceeded to unwrap it. Cake.

"Cora, I wish you wouldn't hide food all over the house. It's most disconcerting to reach into the drawer of my desk and pull out a plate of biscuits. Besides, you know you forget where you hide things. We find moldy food in the most bizarre places for months." He tried to sound stern, as the habit did actually annoy him a good deal, but she was so adorable – and her reasoning not completely off – that it was difficult to keep the sharpness in his voice.

She looked up at him a moment later, chocolate on the corners of her mouth and on her fingertips. "I'm sorry, darling, what were you saying?" She'd been too busy eating to hear him.

Robert shook his head and chuckled. "Nothing, sweetheart. But you're going to get crumbs in our bed." He watched as she broke another piece of cake off the slab in the cloth and ate it, her eyes closed in bliss. "Is it good cake?"

"Hmmmm…. Incredible," she purred.

"Let's just see then," he said in a low voice, leaning close to her and kissing chocolate from the side of her mouth. "Mmmm..." he hummed.

Cora turned her head suddenly and returned his kiss. Robert slid an arm around her shoulders and bent her back farther upon the pillows. Cora thrust the parcel of cake in the direction of the bedside table as best she could with her eyes closed. She missed, and it landed on the floor with a soft _plop_.

While Robert kissed her, he glided a hand over her breast, down her side, and over the curve of her hip. He began hitching up her night dress bit by bit, until he found the hem and slipped his hand lower, beneath her undergarments. He stroked her gently at first, his fingers teasing her, then with more intention, eliciting a gasp from Cora, who then placed her hand on the side of his neck.

Robert recoiled slightly, becoming still, then realized what had happened: Cora had smeared cake on his neck. Withdrawing his arm from around her shoulders, he grasped her hand and put her fingers to his lips. She watched for a moment as he licked her fingers, then had to close her eyes again because he'd simultaneously resumed his stroking between her thighs. Once her fingers were clean of chocolate, she pressed her lips to his and danced her fingers along his night shirt, deftly unbuttoning it with one hand. Then – even as she began to squirm as a result of his attentions – she pushed the night shirt down one shoulder, moving her head to his neck to kiss away the cake smeared there.

"Good God, Cora," he said gruffly, snaking his arm under her waist and pulling her closer as her lips traveled downward and her fingers grazed his nipple.

Cora inhaled sharply several times as he brought her over the edge. She continued panting as he drew her night dress over her head and her undergarments down her legs, then stripped off his own clothing. Robert gathered her in his arms, brushing her hair back from her forehead and gazing down into her eyes. "You are still the most gorgeous creature I've ever seen."

Grinning up at him, she pulled his head down to kiss him, prompting him to open his lips and tease her tongue with his. Robert ran a hand along her arm and her waist, then caressed her abdomen. He kept his hand there until her own hands snaked down to squeeze his buttocks, whence he groaned and kissed her even more passionately, twisting both hands into her hair as he shifted his body to cover hers.

Wrapping her legs around him, she urged him to continue, letting out a low moan as he entered her slowly, deliberately. Robert rocked against her, kissing down her throat and collar bone and then back up to her lips as she ran her fingers over his chest, tweaking his nipples gently, prompting more groans of pleasure.

Eventually their breathing became even heavier, and Cora arched her hips, encouraging him to thrust deeper. Robert complied not only to this silent request, but slid a hand between them, fondling her just above their joining. She gasped sharply, her eyes flying open. "My love, yes, my love," he whispered in her ear, wanting to feel her tighten around him, knowing he was close to his own climax.

Mere moments passed before her back arched up, pressing her body against his, a loud cry of ecstatic joy bursting from her lips. This was all it took to bring him spiraling with her into pure physical bliss. Careful not to collapse upon her, Robert hugged his wife to himself and rolled them over so she was atop him instead.

"Mmmmm…." she hummed, brushing her hair out of her face before resting her head on his chest and sighing happily.

Robert ran his hand along her back and kissed the top of her head. "Perhaps hiding chocolate cake in your bedside table drawer isn't such a bad idea after all."

Cora chuckled. "I'll remember you said that."

* * *

For a while, Violet enjoyed tea with her daughter. They spoke of London and fashions and Rosamund's trouble with servants. The cakes tasted particularly good today, and Violet served a new tea that proved most excellent.

Then Rosamund introduced the subject of Cora's pregnancy. Violet pursed her lips, becoming uncharacteristically quiet.

Rosamund slowly realized that she was the only one talking. "Mama, is there something wrong? It's not like you to have nothing to say on a subject. Is there a problem with this one?"

Violet poured herself more tea and said, "I don't know what you mean, Rosamund."

"Don't plead ignorance with me, Mama. You've been acting strangely for weeks. You barely speak to Robert, and I know you and Cora haven't always been the best of friends, but you've been colder to her than usual. Something is going on, and I'd like to know what." Rosamund fixed an unyielding gaze on her mother's face.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Rosamund, you're making a mountain out of a mole hill, as is your habit."

"I really don't think I am." She stared at Violet, who coolly ignored her, drinking her tea. "You disapprove of Cora and Robert having another baby, don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Rosamund," Violet said. But she fidgeted ever so slightly and wouldn't meet her daughter's eyes.

"That's it, isn't it? You are upset that they would have the audacity to have a child. Let me guess: mostly because the question of inheritance has finally been settled and their having a son could throw a wrench in the entire business. Am I right?" Rosamund's eyes brightened and her voice grew louder.

Violet's head gave an involuntary, almost imperceptible, jerk to the side, and Rosamund knew she'd hit on something.

"Actually, I think you _want_ there to be a son. If they're going to be so scandalous as to have a baby at their age, they'd better make the entire thing worth it, right? A direct Crawley heir at last."

Her mother continued to stare at the tea table, pursing her lips again.

Rosamund kept going, warming to her subject. "In fact, it's likely that you're more offended by the behavior in which they've so clearly engaged to have a baby in the first place." Rosamund's eyes grew wide as Violet finally looked up at her. "My God, Mama. You're jealous. Aren't you?"

Violet's hand had been tightening around the handle of her cane all during this speech. Finally, with a flash of motion, she struck it upon the floor. "That is _enough_!" she shouted, her face an alarming shade of purple. "What you're saying is utterly preposterous. And I refuse to listen to any more of it." Rising, and without even another glance at her daughter, she swept out of the room.

"Well," Rosamund said to herself, taking another sandwich and calmly eating it, "it seems I hit a nerve."

* * *

Meanwhile, the ladies calmly waited in the drawing room for the men to come in from the library, where they'd been working on estate business nearly the whole day. Mary stood by the window, looking out, her hands clasped behind her back. Edith sat on the settee near the chair her mother and Sybbie shared. Cora and Sybbie each had a tea cake in their hands, being unable to wait for the men to start. Edith handed Sybbie a cup of milk, the little girl insisting that she could hold it in one hand, unwilling to part with her tea cake.

"Alright, my dear, but you have to be careful. I'm sure Grandmama doesn't want milk spilled all over her." Edith grinned up at her mother.

Of course, the inevitable happened. Sybbie couldn't manage both and, while taking a large bite of cake, allowed the cup to tip forward, spilling milk over herself and Cora.

Sybbie's chin wobbled and she dropped her tea cake on the chair in upset. Edith came to the rescue, lifting her up out of the chair, careful not to get milk on herself. "Don't cry, darling. I'll get you cleaned up, and Grandmama can be changed in no time at all." Sybbie nodded and smiled, her unshed tears gleaming in her eyes.

Cora got up, too. "Mary, we'll be back in a little while."

Mary waved a hand over her shoulder. "Alright, Mama."

They ran into the three men just outside the doorway. Cora kissed Robert's cheek. "Just a little spilled milk, darling. We won't be long."

Tom dropped a kiss on the top of his daughter's head. "I see you have been at it again, my tiny colleen."

Sybbie put her hand on Edith's cheek. "Ann-ee-dit c'ean Sybbie, Papa," she informed him, nodding her head.

"Then you'll be fresh for tea in a trice, I'll wager." He gave a small wink to Edith and followed Matthew and Robert into the room while Cora, Edith, and Sybbie headed upstairs.

Matthew headed toward his wife, and Robert and Tom went to sit down. As Robert started to sit, Tom said, "Um, Robert –"

But it was too late. Robert stood again, having felt something squish against the back of his trousers. "What have I sat in?" He tried to see behind him, but of course he couldn't.

Tom did his best to hide his grin. "It's a tea cake."

Seizing a serviette from the tea trolley, Robert attempted to wipe the tea cake off his rear end, mumbling under his breath, "…leaving food all over…. We live in a bloody zoo, apparently…." Unable to get all of the icing off his trousers, he flung the serviette down on the trolley in vexation. "Cora," he muttered.

"Actually, that's probably Sybbie's, Robert," Tom said calmly. "When has Cora left a tea cake uneaten since being pregnant?" He hoped his father-in-law wouldn't take this the wrong way, as he knew Cora herself would probably laugh at the truth of it.

Robert sighed, pretending he hadn't heard that last remark. "I need a drink." He glanced over to his daughter and son-in-law, who were so deep in conversation they hadn't appeared to notice anything amiss. Running his hand over his forehead, he walked out of the room and back into the library. Not finding what he wanted out on the surface of the drinks cabinet, he opened it and bent down to reach in for a bottle… and came out with a plate of mince pies. "COOORRRRRAAAAA!" he howled, his face purpling.

It was only a few moments later when she walked in, her dress changed and her brows furrowed. "Why are you shouting? I could hear you from halfway up the stairs."

He'd located a bottle of Scotch and was pouring a liberal amount for himself. Cora noticed the back of his trousers.

"And what happened to your trousers?"

Robert turned, glass in hand. "Well, I found a plate of mince pies where there should have been a bottle of Scotch. And I sat on Sybbie's tea cake, which was left in a chair – also something that should not have been there. Not in that order." He knocked back most of the glass of Scotch.

Cora began to laugh, lifting both hands to cover her mouth when she saw his unamused expression. "I'm sorry, darling."

"I'm happy you find this humorous, Cora." He drained the rest of the glass and pivoted on his heel to pour a second.

Coming up behind him, Cora wrapped an arm around his waist. She turned a pouty face up to his and said, "I _am_ sorry, Robert. Forgive me? Us? Sybbie didn't mean to leave a tea cake on the chair."

Robert felt his expression soften as he sipped the second Scotch. "And you? Did you mean to leave a plate of mince pies in my drinks cabinet?"

"I suppose I did. But I didn't mean for it to upset you. I'll try not to do it again, darling. Forgive me?"

She looked so pathetic with her head tilted up at him, her eyes wide and her bottom lip jutting out, that he laughed and slid an arm around her shoulders. "How could I not forgive you, sweetheart, when you look at me like that?"

A bright smile transformed her face. "Good. Now we can join the others." Taking a mince pie off the plate, she bit into it. "I'm famished." Patting the side of his bottom free of icing, she sashayed toward the library door, eating the rest of the mince pie.

Robert watched her in awe. Shaking his head and chuckling, he followed her out of the room, leaving the Scotch glass on the cabinet still half-full. "We live in a bloody circus, and none of the animals are trained. But they certainly know their tricks, don't they?" he muttered to himself.

* * *

The servants' ball opened as usual with Cora dancing with Carson, and Robert with Mrs. Hughes. Thomas stood in for Bates, partnering with Mary, and Matthew cheerfully guided Perkins around the floor. Tom led Anna, Jimmy took Edith's hand, and Molesley bumbled along with Isobel. Alfred had asked Violet for the pleasure, but she lifted her hand and declined – with thanks. For many years now she'd sat the first dance out, waiting for the second dance when Carson would always step up to her table with a bow. She would admit that she enjoyed this tradition of theirs.

However, as they always stood on ceremony – as was only proper – the butler and Countess shared the first dance. So Violet sat at a table, dressed in her finest plum velvet dress, and watched in silence as couples whirled gaily by. She noticed that Alfred, having been rebuffed by her, had partnered with Rosamund, and as they glided past her table, Violet quietly seethed over her daughter's words to her this afternoon. Jealous? Of Cora and Robert? How completely absurd! What was there to be jealous of? Their impropriety? Their complete lack of regard for their station in life? Ludicrous!

Lost in thought, she didn't see Carson until he was almost upon her, but as he approached her table and bowed, she managed to shake off her contemplations and smile. It truly was her favorite part of the evening, and she didn't want deleterious thoughts to ruin it.

For one dance, at least, Violet relaxed. Carson was an excellent dance partner, and a most proper and respectful one at that. By the end, she was winded, but happily so. He led her back to her table and bowed again, then went off to find Mrs. Hughes for the next dance.

Violet opened her fan, quite warm now. Her smile faded, however, when Rosamund sat next to her. "Having a nice time, Mama?" she asked brightly, as if afternoon tea had never happened.

"I _was_," Violet said pointedly, turning a scowl onto her daughter.

Rosamund pivoted in her chair a bit, more fully facing her mother. "Mama, why do you have to be so thoroughly unpleasant? You could enjoy yourself so much more if you just accepted things as they are." She stood. "However, if my presence is so odious to you, then I'll do you a favor and relieve you of it."

Violet watched her daughter leave. "Humph," she muttered, continuing to fan herself. Then her ears pricked up, a snatch of conversation falling upon them from nearby.

"Mary, it's stupid of you to continue this manner."

"Save your breath, Edith. I'm not discussing this – or anything else – with you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Violet observed the sisters standing in a shadowy corner, their stances hostile.

"I don't care if you don't wish to discuss it; I will continue to point out to you that the whole thing is stupid. Don't you realize all you have? Can't you be content with that? Besides, you don't know that Matthew won't inherit. It's just as likely that Mama will have a girl as a boy."

Violet tensed, holding her breath.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it, Edith. You have no stake in any of it. Either way, you lose nothing. And you gain nothing. So just run along and dally with your editor and write your purple prose."

At this, Edith slapped her sister soundly across the face. Mary put her hand over the place, her eyes wide with shock, her mouth gaping open. Violet glanced around, but apparently no one had seen or heard this but her.

"Don't ever speak to me like that again, Mary. I don't deserve it, nor will I tolerate it. You've been completely horrid to me for far too long, no matter how much I try to mend things between us. If you don't wish to accept my friendship, fine. But don't come knocking on my door if things go truly sour for you." She turned and took one step before swinging back around. "And if you ever do or say anything to make Mama feel bad about having another baby, the other side of your face will feel the same sting." She stomped off, leaving Mary clutching her cheek and staring.

Violet couldn't decide whether to pretend she didn't hear the argument or not. But as the minutes passed and Mary didn't move, she felt she had to do something. The girl couldn't stand there all night. Leaning on her cane, Violet walked the few steps over to Mary and wrapped her other arm about her waist, leading her over to the table. Mary sat as directed, her hand over her left cheek.

"Do you need ice, dear?" Violet asked gently.

Mary shook her head, staring down at the table. "Edith slapped me," she said, incredulous.

"Yes, I saw."

"You did?" Mary lifted her eyes to her grandmother's.

Violet nodded. "I heard too."

Mary took a deep breath and lowered her eyes again. "Oh."

Taking a sip of red wine, Violet waited.

"Granny?" Mary finally ventured. "Am I being selfish?"

Violet paused, taking another sip of wine so she could weigh her words very carefully. "Nothing in life is sure, Mary. And in the end, we don't always get our just desserts." She shrugged, her eyes wandering over to the dance floor, where her son and daughter-in-law danced together, separated more by her growing belly than by any true sense of propriety. Then she turned her eyes from their laughing, glowing faces and back to Mary. "No amount of resentment or jealousy or anger can change that. Perhaps you _are_ being selfish; but it most likely hurts you more than it does anyone else."

Mary furrowed her brows. "Why do you say that?"

"Because, well, I don't know what's gone on between you and Edith, so I don't know about the rest, but she was right about one thing: you do have reasons to be content. And look around you." She waved her hand to indicate the room, alive with spinning couples and tables full of people drinking and laughing. "Instead of moping about an uncertain outcome, thinking about what _should_ be yours, you could be dancing."

Lowering her hand to reveal a purpling bruise, Mary sighed. "I suppose you're right, Granny."

Pointing toward the other side of the room, where Matthew was obviously looking for his wife, Violet remarked, "I'm always right."

Watching Mary wind her way through the dancing couples, then embrace Matthew and have him lead her onto the floor, Violet heaved her own deep sigh. "Except when I'm wrong." Her eyes sought out her son and his wife. They sat alone together at one of the tables, holding hands and exchanging loving glances. Cora's other hand rested upon her baby bump, and as they talked together, Robert would sometimes let out a guffaw that reached his mother halfway across the room. Their eyes shone, and Violet smiled in spite of herself.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Cora began fanning herself vigorously. Robert said something to her and she nodded. He helped her up, and they went off in the direction of the library.

Troubled and somewhat curious, Violet got up and followed them. Their voices drifted to her from the open door.

"Is that better, darling?" Robert asked. "Here, let me find my newspaper…."

There was the clink of ice in a glass, then Cora's voice, a trifle out of breath. "Thank you, my dear."

Violet entered the room quietly. Cora sat on the settee with her eyes closed and held a glass of ice water to her face, which was flushed. Robert, having procured the paper, knelt in front of her, fanning her.

"Robert? Is she alright?"

He turned and looked at his mother, somewhat surprised to see genuine concern on her face after so much frosty treatment to both him and Cora over the past months. So surprised that he didn't reply.

"It's just a hot flash, Mama," Cora answered with a little smile.

"Why are you having a hot flush? I don't remember you having them before."

"Dr. Ryder said that because of my age, my pregnancy would probably be a bit more different than the others. It's quite normal, though." She paused to take another sip of water.

Robert took the opportunity to interject, "Not much different when you take into account your hiding food in all corners of the house."

Cora hit him on the arm. "You try being hungry at all hours."

"Darling, I was only teasing," he said, chuckling and continuing to fan her, causing her hair to ruffle slightly with each flick of his wrist. Cora grinned at him.

"Well," Violet said, "it was quite warm in there. I can imagine you might get hot anyway."

Robert stared at his mother in mild disbelief.

"We should be back in there in just a bit, Mama. They don't usually last too long," Cora informed her.

Violet nodded and turned to go, then paused. "I'd like to have both of you to tea at the Dower House tomorrow."

Robert stood and began to smile. "Save me a dance, Mama. I know you're beating them off with a stick, but –"

Rolling her eyes with a dismissive wave of her hand, Violet let out a "humph." But she allowed herself a little grin, answering, "Hurry up then. Before Molesley takes over the dance floor."

After she'd left, Robert leaned down and kissed Cora soundly on the lips. "What was that for, darling?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss my pretty wife?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "No, but if you keep that up, you'll need more than a newspaper and a glass of ice water to cool me off."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" Robert resumed his fanning.

"Not yet, anyway. We should at least wait until we're upstairs." Cora waggled her eyebrows at him.

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it, my dear. If it's anything like this morning…." Not able to help himself, he bent down and kissed her again, caressing her cheek. "Now, if you've cooled down enough, let's go back in. I'm not sure Mama was joking about Molesley taking over the dance floor."

* * *

Purple: "royalty, dignity, wisdom, luxury, passion, vision, nobility, ceremony, transformation, cruelty, arrogance"


	7. Red

Mid-February, 1922

"My lord, I am sorry to inform you that the chauffeur is ill." Carson stood near Robert's chair while the latter lay his serviette in his lap in preparation for breakfast.

"Oh dear," Robert said. "I hope the poor chap will get better soon. In the meantime, that's a problem, as he was supposed to take her ladyship to see Dr. Clarkson this afternoon." He mumbled half to himself as he began eating. "Why must everyone who drives be away when the chauffeur's taken ill? Matthew taking Mary to a hotel in London for Valentine's Day and Edith staying there with Rosamund whilst she works on a column piece…."

Tom looked up from his plate. "I'll drive her there, Robert."

Robert stared at him a moment and then rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry, Tom. My mind is elsewhere. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. It will be my pleasure." He smiled and picked up his tea cup.

"Oh, good," Robert sighed with relief. "I'm working on a project for tomorrow, and it will be good to have Cora away for a few hours. It's a surprise." He grinned.

Tom chuckled. "For Valentine's Day, I suppose?"

"Yes. That reminds me –" Robert turned. "Carson, did that parcel we spoke of arrive yet?"

Carson inclined his head. "It did, your lordship. It arrived late yesterday and Miss Perkins has it for safe keeping."

"Excellent. Most excellent." Robert brought his attention back to his breakfast, satisfied.

"Robert, would you like me to take Cora to tea somewhere? So you'll have more time to work on this, er, surprise?" Tom picked up his knife and fork to finish his breakfast, his eyes bright with mirth.

"Would you? I'd appreciate the extra time. And I can have a brief tea with Sybbie whilst you're gone."

Tom wiped his mouth and put his serviette down next to his empty plate. "It's a plan then."

* * *

"Is it alright if we have tea in Ripon after your appointment, Cora?" Tom called behind him, keeping his eyes on the road for any holes or dips so he could maneuver around them.

Cora smiled at him from the back seat. "That's a lovely idea, Tom. Yes, I'd like to."

"Sybbie hasn't been tiring you too much, has she? I can have her nanny keep her in her nursery more, if she's bothering you." Tom swerved neatly around a rut.

"No, no." She chuckled. "She keeps my mood swings in check, I think. Who could be sad or irritable with such a little angel around?"

Tom laughed. "I don't know. She can be quite an imperious little dictator too."

"Never fear, Tom. Grandmama knows how to pick her battles."

When they arrived at Downton Cottage Hospital, Tom helped his mother-in-law out of the motor and gave her his arm to usher her into the building. He waited in the hall while she was with Dr. Clarkson, then accompanied her out again.

They sat together at a tea house in Ripon. Tom didn't think he'd ever be used to this sort of thing, taking tea with a Countess. But Cora always seemed to put him at ease. So, ignoring the stares that he feared would always follow him, Tom concentrated on her instead.

"All is well then?" he asked as his mother-in-law began to eat with gusto.

Cora nodded. "Yes." She took a sip of tea, then added, "Thank goodness."

Tom watched her, knowing that she worried sometimes about her pregnancy. "I'm glad to hear it." He let her eat for a while in peace, then cleared his throat and asked a question that he wasn't sure would be well-received. "Cora, do you want a boy or a girl?"

Pausing with a cucumber sandwich almost to her lips, Cora blinked a few times at him.

"Look, I know what everyone would expect you to say, but I understand that you may want something different. I was simply curious. You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Tom looked down at his hands, slightly red with embarrassment now.

Cora put the sandwich down on her plate and wrapped her arms around her belly. "No, I'll answer."

Tom lifted his head to meet her eyes.

"I've always wanted to give Robert a son. It's so important to him, you see. I know that if I have a son, things will be, well, complicated with Matthew. With the money he gave to save the estate. But, oh Tom, I do so want to be able to give my husband a son." Tears shone in her eyes, but she had a smile on her face.

Tom nodded. He didn't agree with it all, but he comprehended how these things worked.

Cora took a breath and then continued. "I don't want you to misunderstand me. If I have a girl, I will love her just as much as I would a son – just as much as I've loved all my daughters. I won't be upset. But I do wonder…." She trailed off, looking down at where her hands smoothed her dress over her stomach.

"What do you wonder, Cora?" Tom's brow furrowed at her tone.

She shook her head, keeping her eyes down. "No, I shouldn't say."

Tom nodded again, drinking his tea. If she wanted to tell him, she would.

Then he heard her say in a tiny voice, "I'm afraid that Robert will be disappointed if it's another girl."

The fear in her voice startled him somewhat. He wanted nothing more than to assuage those fears, to say to her that it was nonsense, that of course Robert would never be disappointed to have another daughter. But he wasn't sure it was true. And he would never want to lie to her. Not after she'd been so good to him.

Instead, after a few minutes had passed in silence, he leaned forward and asked, "Are you ready to go? I have a feeling you might be tired, as you haven't had your nap today."

Raising her head, Cora gave him a grateful smile. "Yes. I think that would be best. Thank you for driving me and taking me to tea, Tom."

Standing, he went around to her chair and offered her his hands to help her up. "Well, I was happy to do it. And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable just now."

"Oh, Tom. Don't mind me. I'm emotional for no reason." She tried to wave it off, but Tom could tell that it was something she'd already thought about very much and that bothered her a great deal to contemplate.

They drove home in silence, Cora falling asleep in the back seat, exhausted.

* * *

Cora leaned back against the dark red plush of the settee, closing her eyes. They'd had a nice, quiet dinner, just the three of them, and now Cora waited in the library for the men to come in from the dining room.

Robert entered sooner than she expected, passing by the settee and dropping a kiss upon her cheek.

"Where's Tom?"

"Nanny sent someone to tell him that Sybbie woke from a nightmare and was asking for him. He went up to calm her so she could go back to sleep. He said if it didn't take too long he'd be back down." He walked to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a Scotch.

"I hope the little darling is alright," she said. She slid her shoes off and hoisted her feet onto the settee, turning and plumping one of the burgundy pillows more comfortably against her back.

Robert sighed. "Cora, you know Carson hates when we put our feet on the furniture."

Cora shot him a look of annoyance. "Who employs whom here, Robert? My feet are swollen, and this helps," she snapped. "Carson will have to like it or he can lump it." She closed her eyes again.

Indulging in a large gulp of Scotch, Robert took his glass over to the settee across from the one upon which she reclined. He could tell that she hung on the edge of a mood swing, and he didn't want to set the pendulum going if he could help it. So he changed the subject. "Did you have a nice tea with Tom today, darling?"

"Mmmm…," she said by way of assent, not opening her eyes.

Robert nursed his drink for a few moments, wondering if Tom might appear and save him. But he didn't. So he tried again. "I've been thinking of baby names."

Cora opened her eyes and looked at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You have?"

His eyes brightening, he nodded. "Yes. I thought of Peter, Andrew, Luke, Philip, James, or perhaps Thaddeus, if we'd like to be different." He chuckled.

Fidgeting a bit, Cora looked down, her expression darkening. All boys' names. "So our child is to be an apostle?" she asked sarcastically.

Robert's face fell. His glass was empty, so he moved it between his hands, unsure what to say.

"Is that all of them?" she asked.

"All of what?" he looked at her in confusion.

She rolled her eyes and glanced at him like he was a particularly slow child. "The. Names. Is that all you thought of?"

Robert cleared his throat, not exactly sure what had gotten him into dangerous territory, but afraid to say something to completely set her off. "Yes."

"So, apparently, we're having a boy. And if we have a girl, she'll simply be nameless. Is that it, Robert?" She turned flashing eyes upon him.

"Cora, please, you know that's not what I mean." He sighed heavily and got up, going back over to the drinks cabinet to pour himself another Scotch.

"Isn't it?" she asked. Except she didn't simply ask it – she spat it at him.

Tom approached the library door after tucking Sybbie in and making sure she'd gone back to sleep. He heard Cora's voice raised, and he balanced on one foot just outside, wondering whether he should stay or go.

"Don't be ludicrous, Cora." He kept his back to her and endeavored to keep his voice under control, having another long drink of the Scotch. He realized that it wasn't her, it was the pregnancy making her act this way. But he wondered how long he could manage his temper if she kept attacking him.

"Admit it, Robert. You won't be happy unless we have a son. An heir. You won't be happy unless we have a son to replace the one I lost."

Tom froze. He knew he should turn and leave, but, like in a nightmare, he couldn't seem to make his legs move.

Robert's face reddened with fury at her unfairness. He spun around and met her eyes. Her own face was flushed, and she'd leaned forward on the settee, arms cradling her baby bump, as if protecting it. From him. "Take that back," he said, his voice trembling with the effort of not shouting at her. He knew she couldn't mean it.

"No, I won't. It's true, isn't it? Don't you want a son to replace the one we should have had?" Her nostrils flared in anger.

He couldn't hold it in anymore. "Don't you want a daughter to replace Sybil?" he bellowed.

As soon as Robert said it, he knew he'd made the gravest of errors. Cora's eyes narrowed in hatred. Not simply rage, but abhorrence. She pointed toward the door. "Get out."

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold. Robert turned white now and took a step forward. "Cora, I –"

"_Get out._" She raised her voice, punctuating the statement with another jab of her finger toward the door.

"Please, Cora –"

Picking up the vase from the table next to her, she suddenly screamed, "_GET OUT!_" and threw it at him with all her might.

Robert ducked, and the vase struck one of the liquor bottles on the drinks cabinet behind him, breaking it and splashing the contents on the wall.

As he heard Robert's footsteps come toward the door, Tom flattened himself to the wall in the shadows near the entrance to the library. He watched his father-in-law's retreating form head for the stairs. He stood there a moment before registering loud sobs coming from the library.

Tom walked over to Cora. She was huddled there, the side of her head against the back of the settee, her arms cradling her baby bump, her body heaving. Sighing softly, he went over to the drinks cabinet, surveying the damage as he found a clean glass and a bottle of brandy. Pouring a soupçon into the glass, he pulled an ottoman over next to Cora. He sat there, facing her, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Cora opened her eyes, startled. Evidently she hadn't noticed he'd come in. "Tom, I –"

Keeping his hand on her shoulder, he shook his head. "Here. Drink this."

Attempting to calm down in front of him, Cora sniffled and asked, "What is it?"

"Brandy. Just a little. It'll help you, I think."

"But, Tom…." She ran her hands over her belly.

Tom gave her a tiny smile. "Now just a couple of sips won't hurt, will it?"

Cora hiccupped from the effort of controlling herself. "No. I suppose they won't." She hiccupped again and took the glass from him with shaking hands.

After she drank the brandy, Tom pulled out his handkerchief and handed this to her, taking the glass and putting it on the table behind her.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a soft voice.

She lifted her red, tear-streaked face to his. "I – I think so." She took a deep breath, and then her face screwed up again, fresh tears falling down her cheeks. "Oh, Tom," she choked out, grasping his hand in hers. "It was horrible."

Tom moved his other hand from her shoulder and put it atop hers, gently pressing her hand between his. "I heard. I shouldn't have, but there was yelling, and, well, I heard. Not all of it, but enough."

Cora waved his handkerchief, dismissing this, looking somewhat relieved that he'd heard, that she didn't have to tell him what happened. She turned her eyes to his, still crying. "You don't think I want to replace Sybil, do you?" she whispered, swallowing hard.

Without hesitation, Tom answered, "No. Not at all. And I have many general reasons for saying that, but I also have two specific ones." He gave her a warm smile.

"You do?" Her voice trembled with both hopefulness and tears.

Nodding, he said, "The first is something you said today, when we were at tea. That you wanted so much to have a son – for Robert. Now that, to me, sounds the opposite of selfish."

She gave him a watery smile and wiped at her eyes with his handkerchief again. "And the second?"

"The second." Tom's smile widened, and he pressed her hands between his again. "The second is how you are with Sybbie. Cora, you're really the only mother she's ever known. And if any child, any little girl, was going to replace Sybil for you, I think it would be her – her own daughter." He blinked back tears, but otherwise kept his eyes steadily upon hers. "But it hasn't been like that. You recognize Sybbie for who she is. Just as you have always done with all your daughters, so far as I've seen." He nodded toward her baby bump. "And just as you will with this one, if she is a girl."

Cora nodded in return, looking down at their hands. "You know," she said, taking a deep breath, "Hazel – Perkins – said something to me the day she returned. And it's stuck with me. She said that the loved ones that we've lost leave holes in our hearts. And nothing, no one, can ever fill them. That we can put happy memories in, and this helps, fills them partway, but they remain. But that, for her, she would rather have that hole there, with its happy memories that don't quite fill it up, than a whole heart that didn't know that loved one at all." She met his eyes again.

He paused a moment before saying, "Perkins is a very wise woman."

They sat there together in silence for a while, composing themselves.

Then Tom ventured an opinion. "It's not my place to say anything, Cora, but I don't think Robert meant that."

"He shouldn't have said it," she whispered.

"No, he shouldn't have. But, at the risk of having something thrown at me too, I need to say something."

Cora couldn't imagine Tom saying anything that would make her want to hit him with a vase. "What's that?"

He kept hold of her hand. "I think he might have been provoked. Don't you?"

Tears glinted in her eyes again. She squeezed his hand. "Oh God, Tom. I was cruel to him, wasn't I?" Then she began pulling her hand away, trying to sit up, flailing a bit in her reclined position. "I – I have to go to him, I have to apologize…."

Tom rested his hands atop her arms, shaking his head. "Cora, please. I think you both need some time to cool down and rest. Please. If you don't mind, I'll go talk to him. He'll probably strangle me for eavesdropping – even if I couldn't seem to help it – but let me talk to him, if he'll see me."

Cora stared at him for a minute or two. "Tom, will you go up now? Then come back down?"

"Yes. I will go. You stay right here, and then I'll come down and get you. Alright? Just rest right here." He stood, keeping his hands on her arms.

She settled back on the settee, running her hands over her belly and nodding at him. "Thank you, Tom."

Once he was certain that she wasn't about to jump up and run out of the room, Tom took his hands away and touched her shoulder one more time before making his way upstairs on what might very well be a fool's errand.

He decided to try the dressing room first.

When Robert heard the knock, he automatically thought it might be Cora. But then he realized that her knock would more likely be on the dividing door between their rooms. He opened the door. "Tom?"

"Robert, might I come in?" He noted that Robert was still in his evening clothes, but that his jacket and tie were flung across the bed and that his top buttons were undone. His shirt appeared wrinkled on the left side, as though he'd been clutching at it. His face was still rather red, and he was perspiring.

Flustered by the events of the evening and with this request, Robert stepped back from the door to allow him to pass. "Is something wrong with Sybbie?"

Tom stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, taking in his father-in-law's expression of half bewilderment and half concern, unsure how to broach the subject. "No, no. Sybbie is perfectly well." He made a gesture toward downstairs. "I've just come from the library."

Robert looked down, then sighed deeply and dropped heavily into a chair. "Oh."

"I heard part of the argument, Robert. I was coming back from putting Sybbie to bed, and, well, I heard." He gave Robert an apologetic glance.

"Right." He kept his eyes on the floor, looking defeated.

Tom sat on the chair across from him and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. "Cora was very upset."

Robert closed his eyes, whispering, "I know. It's my fault."

"Robert, she was upset because she was afraid that what you said might be right."

His father-in-law's eyes sprang open in shock. "But – but it wasn't! I was completely out of line saying that. She would never – she's not like that. She could never be like that."

Tom shook his head. "She realizes you didn't mean it. And – you weren't completely out of line." Robert raised his eyebrow at this. Tom continued. "You weren't. I heard what she said. It was unfair of her." He put up his hand, as he saw that Robert was about to protest. "She admitted that what she said was unfair. If you were out of line, she was too. And she knows it. And she's sorry for it."

Robert nodded, then furrowed his brow. "Why didn't she come up and tell me herself?"

"You didn't see her, Robert. She was near hysterical. I told her to wait. Now, if you want to go downstairs and talk to her…."

Robert heaved a deep sigh. "Near hysterical?" Tom nodded. "No, I don't think she'd want to see me tonight after what I said to her." He put a hand over his heart, wincing.

Tom's forehead wrinkled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Tom, could you make sure she gets upstairs alright? Perkins can help you."

Tom put a friendly hand on Robert's arm. "Of course I will." He stood to go, then turned back. "Will _you_ be alright?"

Robert nodded. "I'm fine, Tom, really. Just make sure she is. Please?"

Inclining his head one last time, Tom left the room.

Hazel sat at the servants' hall table with Bates. "Miss Perkins?" Tom inquired.

"Yes, Mr. Branson?" she answered.

"Might I have your help with something?" He nodded at Bates.

"Certainly." She smiled and got up, not asking anything of him, just following him upstairs to the library.

"Oh my," Tom whispered. "She's asleep."

"Very asleep," Hazel agreed, nodding.

"What do we do? I don't like to wake her, not after –" He stopped, abashed.

"After what?" she whispered.

"I don't like to say."

"Oh. They had a fight, I take it," she said, matter-of-factly.

Tom gazed at her in awe. "How do you know that?"

Hazel turned a tender look upon him. "Mr. Branson, I was here many years before you knew this family. I was here when Lady Edith was a baby and your dear departed wife wasn't even a twinkle in your mother- and father-in-law's eyes. Mark my words – Lord and Lady Grantham had a fight, or my name isn't Hazel Perkins Haverty."

Tom wondered at the mirth on her face. "You are a marvel, Perkins."

She chuckled. "No, not anything so grand, Mr. Branson. I've just loved these two longer than I loved my own husband." She looked back at Cora, then whispered, "We need to get her upstairs."

"I don't think I can carry her all the way to her room like this. Not up the stairs. She's six months pregnant. I'd be afraid to drop her. Then Robert would kill me and leave Sybbie mother- _and_ father-less." He was halfway jesting, but he thought that Robert might actually perform a murder if Cora came to any harm.

Hazel shrugged. "So we get Lord Grantham." She turned to leave the room.

Tom put a hand on her arm. "No, he said he didn't want to see her tonight," he hissed.

"Oh, Mr. Branson," she said, chuckling. "You still have so much to learn." She left the room, and Tom had no choice but to follow.

"Perkinssss…" he hissed, standing a little down the hallway as she knocked on Robert's dressing room door.

"TOM!" he heard as the door opened. "Oh, it's you. I'm sorry. Is Lady Grantham alright, Perkins?"

"My lord, she's sound asleep, and we don't like to disturb her. She looks so peaceful, you see. But we're unsure we can get her up the stairs without waking her."

Tom heard Robert sigh heavily. "Alright, Perkins. I'll bring her up."

He couldn't believe it. The woman truly was a tiny marvel. Robert closed the door to the dressing room behind him and stopped short when he saw Tom.

Waving his hands, Tom said, "It wasn't my idea, Robert. I would have woken Cora first before bothering you…."

"Never mind, Tom." Robert led them down the stairs and into the library. His entire aspect softened when he saw his wife asleep on the settee, her arms wrapped over her belly. He knelt before her and kissed her cheek gently, then slid his arms underneath her, lifting her as if she were a mere feather.

Tom let out a sigh of relief. "Can you get her up the stairs alright, Robert?" he asked as Robert cradled her in his arms and maneuvered her through the library doorway.

Robert nodded. "Tom, I've been carrying my darling wife through more obstacles than you can imagine," he said, kissing her temple as he walked.

Left wondering by this enigmatic statement, Tom followed with Perkins. Once they got up the stairs, Tom opened Cora's bedroom door for them. "I'll leave you here, Robert, Perkins. It's been a long night, and I'm sure you'll want privacy."

Turning, Cora still in his arms, Robert looked at Tom. "Thank you, Tom. I mean, truly. Thank you."

Tom nodded. "It's my pleasure, Robert. Honestly. Goodnight to all of you." With this he bowed out and went to his own room.

"Perkins," Robert said, once she'd closed the door behind Tom. "Can you help me get her into her night dress?"

"Of course, my lord," she replied.

Robert loved that Perkins asked no questions. He had a feeling she knew more than she would admit – and even that she knew things without Tom having to tell her. They worked quickly, gently, getting Cora's hair loosened and her clothing exchanged for a night dress. Robert placed her under the bedclothes, kissing her cheek.

"Thank you, Perkins. As always. If Bates is still downstairs, tell him he can go home. I'll tend to myself tonight."

Perkins cocked her head. "My lord? Will I be continuing with the preparations in your upstairs sitting room?"

Robert rubbed a hand over his forehead. "I sincerely hope so, Perkins. Although I don't know how her ladyship will feel in the morning."

He looked so mournful, Perkins sighed. "Whatever has happened, Lord Grantham, her ladyship will come around. That I know." She smiled at him.

"I wish I were so certain as you. But, I take comfort in knowing that, thus far, you've always been right. Well, in one way or another." He grinned at her, remembering her first months in the job and one way she'd been mistaken.

Perkins had the grace to blush, her cheeks becoming a charming shade red. "Well. I wasn't completely wrong then, was I?"

Robert chuckled softly. "No. You weren't. But I'm glad you were a bit mistaken, let's say."

"Oh, Lord Grantham. So was I." With that, she left the room, grinning.

With a sigh, Robert knelt by the side of the bed, caressing Cora's cheek as she slept. "Oh, my darling. I'm so sorry," he whispered. He got up and went into the dressing room, leaving the door slightly ajar just in case she wakened.

After he'd gotten into his night clothes, he turned out all the lights and slipped beneath the blankets beside her. But he kept to his own side of the bed, still very uncertain what she would do if she found him there with her. His thoughts troubled, it took him a while to fall asleep.

* * *

Cora woke in her own bed a few hours later, slightly disoriented. How had she gotten here? She noticed she was in her night dress. And she needed to…. She got up and quietly went into the washroom, then came out again a few moments later. As she was about to get back into bed, she noticed Robert there, facing the other side of the room. Then she remembered. Remembered how horrible she'd been to him. And what he'd said to her. But she knew that he hadn't meant it. It made her stomach do a flip. She took a deep breath and got back into bed, taking a chance and cuddling against him, her growing belly in the small of his back and her forehead nuzzled against the nape of his neck, her arm over his middle.

She wanted nothing more than for him to turn and tell her she was forgiven, that it was all nothing more than pregnancy hormones gone awry. She heaved a deep sigh. Then she felt him touch her hand.

"Cora?" he inquired, the fear and hesitancy clear in his voice.

"Robert," she breathed in relief. "Darling, I'm –"

"No. Stop." He turned and faced her, his eyes trying to adjust to the dark, reaching up to touch her cheek if he couldn't look into her eyes. "I never should have said what I did. Never. It was wrong."

"Robert," she whispered. "Don't. It wasn't your fault. I was cruel, and I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it."

He could hear the tears in her voice. Stroking her hair, he said, "Please, don't cry, my love. You've already shed too many tears over my foolishness."

Cora gasped. "How do you know that?"

"Tom told me, sweetheart. He was worried about you. And so was I. I really was so very wrong. Will you forgive me?"

"Only if you forgive me first," she whispered into the dark, clasping his hand and bringing it to her lips.

"Might we simply forgive each other?"

He felt her nod gently. "Yes. Please."

Robert pulled her closer, resting his forehead on hers. "Darling? I thought of some girls' names."

"You did?" Her voice caught as tears began to fall unheeded down her face.

"Yes. Perhaps Evelyn? We could call her Evy."

"I like that. Or Alice."

"Or Elizabeth? Like your heroine in _Pride and Prejudice_. The one who taught me a lesson once."

"Yes, I remember, my darling. I was reading that when you declared your love to me. With a black eye." She chuckled gently.

"A black eye I was all too willing to endure for you."

"I know, Robert." She sighed and ran her hand along the nape of his neck, continuing to press her forehead against his.

"And – this one is my favorite, Cora – Amelia. Isn't that nice? Our own little Lady Amelia?"

"Little Lady Amelia. Robert, I quite like that, actually. Let's see what the baby says."

"What – what do you mean?"

"Give me your hand."

Robert did as she bid. Cora put his hand on her baby bump, pressing his hand into it until –

He gasped. "Cora! I felt it!"

"I know, darling. The baby woke me up." She guided his hand again to where the baby was moving. "I told you that as soon as I thought you could feel it, you'd be the first."

Robert blinked back tears. "Cora, I –"

"Yes, my love. I know." She continued to guide his hand along her belly. "Robert? Might we assign a pronoun to our little darling? I cannot think of continuing to call our baby 'it'."

"Cora," Robert said, a very serious edge to his voice. "Isn't there a danger to calling the baby one or the other?"

Cora closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Robert, I'm going to tell you what I told Tom earlier today – and if you don't believe me, you can ask him to prove the veracity of what I say. But – I _want_ to give you a son. I've always wanted to give you a son. Knowing that I lost one…"

Robert put a hand to her lips. "I know, my love. I know," he whispered, relieved that she couldn't see his tears falling.

She took another breath, continuing. "I want to give you a son, but we both know that I have only _had_ girls. So, might we just expect a girl? And if we have a son – it will be a most wonderful surprise."

Caressing her cheek for a moment, Robert thought about this. As the baby – their child – moved beneath his fingers, as if responding to his touch, he felt his heart swell in his chest. He remembered her words from earlier, from their argument, and he knew he had to reassure her of something he already felt – had felt since he even thought she _might_ be pregnant – but that he hadn't realized until then that she questioned. "Cora, this child is already a most wonderful surprise. Whether a boy or girl. I will love a daughter no less than I would a son. And do you know why?"

Cora shook her head gently, and Robert could feel new tears roll alongside his thumb.

"Because this baby is a creation of our love for each other. And I already love it. Boy or girl makes no difference." He had to stop to keep his own tears in check.

"Robert," she whispered, "I'm so happy you said that." She knew he wasn't just saying it in order to placate her either. He meant it. She could hear it in his voice and feel it in the way his hand continued to follow the baby's movements.

When her tears had ceased, he went back to her question from before. "But, yes, Cora. For now, so we don't have to say 'it,' the baby will be 'she.' Our little Lady Amelia, if you truly like that name."

"I do, Robert. It's beautiful. And if the baby _is_ a boy?"

"Well, didn't you like any of the names I proposed? The 'apostolic' ones?" he chuckled a bit.

"They weren't bad. But I came across one recently. 'Theodore.' It means 'gift from God.' I think that would be very appropriate, wouldn't it?"

Robert raised his head to press his lips to her forehead. "It would, Cora. And I like it. It's a wonderful name."

"Well, if we have a son, he'll truly be a gift. But a little girl will be a gift too," she said, remembering what he'd said.

"Yes, she will." He kissed her cheek, then the tip of her nose, his hands now on either side of her face.

"Darling, are you tired?"

"Not particularly. But if you are…." Robert rubbed his fingers across her cheeks tenderly.

"No. I'm not tired," she said, her hands finding his night shirt buttons and beginning to unfasten them. "And I don't think we've properly made up yet."

"Hmmm…. Are you _sure_ you're not too tired?" he whispered, his lips finding hers in the dark.

In lieu of a spoken reply – which would have been difficult while he kissed her, anyway – Cora snaked her hand down, beneath the waistband of his underthings, and fondled him, her palm flat against him. She smiled against his lips when his body immediately responded and a deep growl escaped his throat.

"I will take that as a 'yes,'" he breathed as he moved from her mouth to her neck and collar bone with his attentions. Gliding a hand along her upper arm, he brought it around to cup a breast, then felt her tense. "Alright, darling, I know," Robert whispered to her, withdrawing his hand, understanding that her breasts were too tender then for him to touch as he might usually. Instead, he pulled up her night dress and grazed his fingers over her side and back. As she relaxed again, one of her hands still curled around his arousal and the other tracing along his chest, he dipped his head to her shoulder once more, slipping his hand beneath her undergarments now to cup her behind.

The heat generated between them soon necessitated the quick removal of their garments. Flinging these to the floor and finally switching on a light, Robert gathered his wife up again, and gazed into her eyes. His hand traveled down the outside of her thigh and then wandered unhurried back up along the inside, his fingers resting at their juncture briefly before moving to tease her. His other arm held her against him, his hand playing with her hair.

"Please," Cora begged. "Don't toy with me, darling."

As she started squirming, Robert touched her with more intention, his fingers circling inside her and his thumb pressing her rhythmically. "I wouldn't do that, my love." He watched her tenderly as her skin flushed a tantalizing red and she closed her eyes, gasping. "Not if you don't want me to," he added in a whisper against her ear. He kissed along her jawline, her breath hot upon his face. As her legs clamped around his hand, her entire body shuddering and her gasps becoming higher in pitch, he felt his own desire heighten. He needed her. And soon.

"Sweetheart," he murmured as she caught her breath, "how would you like to do this?"

Cora had gotten to the point in her pregnancy where many of their usual positions simply weren't comfortable – or even possible – for her anymore. Whenever Robert grumbled about this, Cora merely laughed and told him not to worry. It was a way for them to become creative, she explained. And she consulted her books.

She looked at him meaningfully, still unable to speak.

"The same as last time?" he asked.

She nodded, a slow grin crossing her face. Robert's grin mirrored hers as he kissed her cheek. Without another word, he pulled away from her and began arranging pillows on the bed. When they were ready, he helped her up so she could kneel, bending herself forward to rest her belly and chest down on this cushioning. "Are you alright?" he asked, sitting beside her and leaning forward to kiss her cheek, his hand rubbing her lower back.

Cora placed her thumb in the cleft of his chin. "I am. I'll be better once you're behind me," she breathed, her eyes darkening with lust.

Robert needed no further encouragement. Kneeling behind her, his arousal resting against her hip, he leaned down with his chest along her back and his lips to her ear to whisper, "How I love you, sweetheart." Sweeping her dark tresses over one shoulder, he kissed the nape of her neck, behind her ear, and down over the tops of her shoulders.

Wriggling her bottom, her hip rubbing against him and causing him to moan, Cora turned her head a bit. "Robert," she said throatily, "you're teasing me again." She wriggled her bottom once more, enjoying the response she got from her husband.

"I didn't think I was, my love, but I'll most certainly put you out of your misery," he breathed into her hair as he shifted himself, kissing her neck again as he guided himself into her.

Cora moaned with pleasure, rocking back against him, her eyes closed. Robert put his hands atop hers and twined their fingers together as he moved behind her in a steady rhythm. His lips and tongue traveled up and down her back, her sides, her spine, causing her to shiver even as the heat between them increased. Soon Robert rested his head down between her shoulder blades, concentrating on bringing her to a second and then third release, hoping he might be able to make her shudder and tremble and gasp in that way a fourth time before his own.

Letting go of one of her hands, he slipped his hand below her belly and found the place just above his fervent motion, engaging his fingers there.

"My God, Robert!" she inhaled gruffly, pushing her hips back against him harder and dropping her head down, grasping his hand tighter, feeling as if she might actually fly out of her body with ecstasy.

Once he felt her contract around him with her own climax, he thrust into her several more times before grunting with pleasure and sighing heavily against her back, his chest heaving. Although exhausted, he held his own weight, not wanting to put too much pressure on her or the baby, but not ready to move just yet. He traced his thumb in lazy circles over her own, their fingers still entwined.

"Robert," she whispered, her breathing still too labored to speak any louder.

"Yes, my darling," he answered, his heart pounding in his ears.

"I don't enjoy the fighting part, but might we make up more often?" Cora pulled one of the extra pillows over to rest her head on.

Robert chuckled and lifted his head to trail kisses along the delicate jut of her shoulder blades. "I think we might be able to arrange that, sweetheart."

* * *

Tom ate breakfast alone. He attributed this to the happenings of the night before and hoped that both Robert and Cora were alright. He was somewhat dumbfounded to see them descend the stairs hand in hand, their faces happy and turned toward one another with tenderness. They hadn't noticed him at the bottom of the stairs, and he watched as Robert stopped the pair on the landing to whisper something in his wife's ear that made her immediately blush and grin and hiss, "Rooobbbberrrrt!" at which the man in question merely chuckled and smirked.

Glancing up and seeing him as they neared the hallway, Cora said brightly, "Good morning, Tom. I hope you slept well." She smoothed a hand over her belly.

"Yes, thank you, I did. And you two?" Tom asked.

"We did," Robert replied, grinning ear to ear now.

Cora pinched him. "Robert!"

He turned to her, rubbing his arm. "What was that for? All I said is we had a good night's sleep. Of course, I could tell him the re–OUCH!" he yelped as she pinched him again, this time as she blushed a deep red. He chuckled. "I was only teasing, darling."

"Well, stop it." She couldn't help laughing with him though.

Tom smiled at them, relieved they were getting along.

"Tom, we came to look for you, because we wanted you and Sybbie to see my Valentine's Day surprise." Cora's eyes shone in anticipation.

Glancing at Robert, Tom hesitated. "Robert, are you sure you want us there when she sees it?"

Robert flourished his hand at his wife. "Cora says she wants you both to see too, and having you there won't diminish the effect one bit. In fact, I am sure you're curious about it anyway."

"Oh, please do come see," she pleaded, putting a hand on his arm.

"Alright then," he agreed, smiling at them. "Lead the way, Robert. We can get Sybbie on the way there."

They ascended the staircase and stopped outside Sybbie's nursery to collect her. "'M-mama!" she shrieked, holding her arms out.

Tom laughed and attempted to hold on to his fidgeting daughter. "No, my tiny colleen. Grandmama is going to hold Grandpapa's hand when he shows her the surprise."

Sybbie heaved a great sigh, as she'd heard the adults in her life do when disappointed, then crossed her arms over her chest in grudging acquiescence.

Perkins kept guard outside Robert and Cora's sitting room door. Robert gave her a questioning look, and she responded with a nod and a smile, opening the door for them.

Cora stepped into the room and gazed around in open-mouthed awe. The others watched as she walked around, pulling Robert along with her, staring at everything.

The usual furniture had been pushed back against the walls of the room, everything draped in red. Above the furniture, prints and photographs and postcards of Paris views and Louvre art graced every possible surface of the walls. A gramophone sat on a side table, a record already spinning upon it, French music pouring out of the horn. Red and silver paper streamers ran across the ceiling. To one side of the room a dining table for two had been set up, a wine red table cloth upon it and a large vase of fragrant red roses and purple irises sitting in the middle. Next to the vase of flowers was a beautiful wrought metal miniature Eiffel Tower with a bow tied around the pinnacle. Another wrapped gift had been placed at one of the table settings. Near this was a tea trolley with French pastries and croissants and crêpes suzette.

After Cora had taken all this in, she turned and wrapped her arms around her husband. "Oh, Robert! It's wonderful!"

Hazel watched them with tears in her eyes. Sybbie tried to escape her papa's embrace to investigate the tea trolley. Tom smiled, knowing it must have taken his father-in-law ages to plan and execute all this – respecting him that much more for wanting to do something so lovely to make his wife happy.

"We can spend the whole day here if you like, darling." He slid his arms around her, not minding if any of the others saw, and gazed down into her radiant face. "I know it's not the same as actually getting to _take_ you to Paris, as we'd planned, but –" Robert was interrupted by Cora's lips upon his, kissing him soundly. Remembering they weren't alone, he broke the kiss as gently as possible, clearing his throat. His blush matched the décor.

"Robert, it's perfect, really. How long have you been planning this?" she asked, truly in awe.

"At least a month. I enlisted some help, though. Mary let me borrow her gramophone and helped me order the records and gifts from Paris. Edith used her contacts at the newspaper to track down all the photographs and pictures. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore were good enough to find French recipes. Even Sybbie helped us with the streamers and covering the furniture yesterday, while Tom offered to take you to tea after your appointment to give us more time to set everything up. Perkins has been the biggest help." He nodded gratefully at her. "She was pretty much the ring leader of this whole circus, and at some point I wasn't sure who had more ideas – her or me." He winked at the beaming woman teasingly.

Cora looked over at them, her eyes shining with happiness and tears. "I'm so grateful for this, my darlings. I am. And, Hazel, you sly thing. You let slip not a bit of it!" She laughed as Hazel put a finger to her lips to indicate that she could keep secrets when she needed to.

Robert touched his wife's cheek. "So, my sweet Valentine, as I was saying before, we can stay here all day if you like. All the meals have been planned and will be brought up here to us, and we can dance or talk – or you can nap, and I'll watch you." He grinned at her. "You can even put your feet up on the settee if you like. Carson will have to get over it."

Heaving a deep sigh of contentment, Cora rested her head down on Robert's chest, smiling over at Tom and Sybbie and Hazel.

Tom clutched Sybbie tighter to him. "Well, we'll leave you two to enjoy your day in Paris together," he said. Sybbie waved her hand at them in farewell.

Hazel closed the door on the tender tableau her employers made and turned to Tom. "And what will you do today, Mr. Branson?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, Sybbie and I have our own plans, don't we, my tiny colleen?" he said, giving his daughter a little bounce.

Sybbie head bobbed up and down. "Tea part' wif Mama."

Tom's throat caught. The day might be harder than he thought. "That's right, Sybbie darling. With heart-shaped tea cakes."

When he looked up again, Hazel noticed that he blinked back tears. She addressed the toddler. "You know, little love, one day you and I will have to sit down, and I'll tell you stories about your mama when she was just a bit of a girl like you are now." She raised her eyes to Tom's. "In fact, I'm sure your grandmama and grandpapa wouldn't mind if I told you some of them later. After you enjoy your tea party with your papa, that is."

Sybbie clapped her hands together and crowed in delight.

"We'd very much like that, Miss Perkins." Tom remembered something that Cora told him last night. "More happy memories to place in the hole in our hearts."

Perkins nodded in silent understanding. "The more we have, the better." She brushed at her cheek with the back of a finger. "Now, run along, my dears. Heart-shaped tea cakes await."

He stood for a long moment, giving Perkins a look of gratitude for her kindness and empathy. Then he turned to go, the strains of French music reaching his ears. Tom smiled and held Sybbie closer to his heart, imagining Cora and Robert dancing together, nothing between them but the baby that, whether boy or girl, was already so well loved.

* * *

Red: "excitement, passion, heat, love, aggression, danger, fire, all things intense"


	8. Black

Mid-March, 1922

Isobel beamed on her luncheon guests, gratified that they appeared to be having such a nice time with her at Crawley House. Her cook – who, she admitted, was no Mrs. Bird – having gotten much better at preparing her son's favorite meals, Isobel had decided to have Matthew and Mary over. As they talked together and ate, Isobel thought that she recognized a certain aspect to Mary, although she couldn't be sure. Besides, whether _that_ was true or not, there was no doubting that the pair were happy together. And that's all Isobel cared about; her son's happiness would always be tied to her own.

"Won't the two of you spend the afternoon here? Stay through tea?" Only one regret dampened Isobel's happiness for her son and his wife. They didn't live with her at Crawley House. She never seemed to get enough time with them. True, Robert and Cora invited her for dinner very often, but it wasn't quite the same as having Matthew and Mary to herself.

Matthew shook his head as they moved toward the entry-way. "I'm sorry, Mother. We'd like to, but Mary and I made a promise to Sybbie that we'd be back in time for tea." He smiled, helping Mary on with her coat before putting his own on and picking up his hat. "Besides," he smiled at his wife, "I have had a surprise made for you, Mary, and I have to go to Ripon to get it."

"Oh, are we going to Ripon before we go home?" Mary tugged on her gloves, looking at him quizzically.

Laughing, Matthew turned to his mother. "You see why I love her? She doesn't concentrate on the 'surprise' part of what I just said – but on the fact that her plans have been shifted."

Isobel smiled sadly. She'd hoped they'd stay a little longer at least.

"Matthew, stop teasing," Mary said as she placed her hat over her coiffure, using the entry-way mirror to make sure she tilted it just right upon her head.

"In answer to your question, darling, no. _We_ are not going to Ripon. _I_ am going to Ripon. I had the motor sent from Downton to collect you and take you home, and I'll be back in plenty of time for tea." He clapped his hat onto his head.

Mary turned from the mirror to grin at him. "It'd better be a very good surprise then, to make up for my having to go home alone."

"It is." He smiled widely at her. "I believe I hear the car come for you now." Touching Isobel's arm, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "Marvelous luncheon, Mother. We had a lovely time, didn't we, Mary?"

Mary took her turn in saying farewell to her mother-in-law, kissing her cheek and embracing her warmly. "Yes, we did. Perhaps next time we can stay a little longer." She smiled at Isobel, and, taking her husband's arm, walked with him out the door.

Isobel stepped out behind them, going halfway to the gate, close enough to see them off. She crossed her arms against the March chill, not having put on a coat, and waited while Matthew handed Mary into the motor. He kissed her before closing the door for her, then got into his own little car. "See you tomorrow for dinner at Downton, Mother!" He called out as he started the engine and then waved at her.

Waving until she could see him no more, Isobel went back into her house and shut the door.

* * *

Robert ran slightly late for tea that afternoon. "Confound it," he muttered as he tucked his watch back in his pocket, walking faster. Sybbie would be upset if he was this late, and Cora would be upset if Sybbie was upset.

Just as he reached the drawing room, he heard a scream of agony or alarm coming from the direction of the foyer, followed closely by a wail of "Noooo!"

Hastening toward the sounds, he almost ran into Carson at the foyer entrance.

"Oh God, Mary," Robert exhaled, immediately kneeling on the floor beside her. She'd fainted. He looked up at the butler, "Carson, go get her ladyship and Lady Edith."

Without so much as a "yes, my lord," Carson, fear in his eyes, turned on his heel and rushed to the drawing room.

As he stroked Mary's cheek and made a cursory examination to be sure she was breathing normally and hadn't struck her head, Robert became aware of a strange noise. Glancing around, he spotted the telephone receiver hanging off the edge of the table. Standing, he took this in hand and spoke into the telephone, "Hello?"

"Lord Grantham? Is Lady Mary alright?" The voice belonged to Dr. Clarkson.

"She seems to have fainted, but I think she'll be fine. Clarkson, what's happened? Why has my daughter fainted?" Robert began to get extremely agitated.

Dr. Clarkson hesitated. Then, in a the tone of a man who did not want to be the one to break this to yet another person, he said, "Your lordship, I'm sorry to have to tell you that Matthew Crawley was in an accident this afternoon. He's been – he's been killed."

"What? How can that be?" Robert looked down at his daughter, then back up to the others hurrying toward the foyer, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Lord Grantham, a lorry struck Mr. Crawley's motor car, and he was thrown from it. He was rushed here, but…." His voice faltered. "There was nothing to be done. He was already gone."

"My God," he breathed, lowering himself into a chair, watching Edith pick up Mary's head and put it in her lap and Cora turn to tell Tom to get her smelling salts from her dressing table as quickly as he could. "Isobel?" he asked, vaguely remembering that Matthew's mother would need to be told.

"I'm going to Crawley House right now, your lordship."

Robert thought he heard Dr. Clarkson sigh mournfully. He closed his own eyes. "Right. Thank you, Clarkson. I – I have to tell the others. Goodbye." He put the receiver down without waiting for a response.

Cora looked at him in slight panic. "Robert, what's happened?"

Tears forming in his eyes as the reality began to sink in, he gazed at his wife a moment, taking in her worried expression and her rounded belly. Unable to speak yet, he stood, took her hands in his, and led her over to the chair in which he'd been sitting, helping her settle onto it. He couldn't have Cora fainting and falling to the floor too.

Tom burst in with the smelling salts. Keeping his hand clasped around one of Cora's, Robert waved at Tom and Edith with the other. "Not yet," he said, roughly. "She doesn't need to hear it twice."

Edith repeated her mother's question, "Papa, what's happened?" Tom stood poised over Edith and Mary, smelling salts at the ready. Carson didn't seem to know what to do with his hands and kept his eyes trained on Mary.

Robert addressed them all, but he looked at his wife. "There was an accident this afternoon. Matthew was involved. He – he didn't make it."

"What?" Edith exclaimed, while Cora put a hand over her mouth in shock, and Tom looked down. Carson blinked several times.

"It's true." Robert felt his breathing get heavier and his face flush, but he knew he had to tell them first and to make sure Mary was alright. "That was Clarkson on the telephone, and he was certain. Matthew's gone." He closed his eyes, feeling his chest start to constrict now as Cora squeezed his hand. "He'll tell Isobel."

"Robert?" Tom asked. "Shouldn't we wake Mary now?"

Robert's eyes opened and he nodded. "Yes. Yes, we have to see that she's alright – alright from the faint I mean." He clutched Cora's hand tighter as perspiration beaded upon his brow.

Edith took the smelling salts from Tom, tears already streaking her face. She held them under her sister's nose.

Mary's eyes flew open. She focused them on her papa, whose face told her in one glance that she hadn't just woken from a nightmare. "No," she whispered, curling up into a ball, and turning herself so her face burrowed into her sister's skirt. Her sobs echoed around the small room, her anguish affecting them all. Cora looked as if she wanted to kneel beside her and take her in her arms, but she couldn't in her state. So she simply wept, one hand over her baby bump and the other in her husband's, her heart aching. Carson continued to wring his hands, his face as sad as anyone had ever seen. Edith stroked Mary's hair, and her tears blended with the ones her sister poured onto her dress.

Tom, grey-faced, crouched down and whispered, "Mary, please, you have to tell us if you're hurt from falling on the floor when you fainted."

Mary shook her head vehemently before burying her face even farther and continuing to choke with sobs.

Robert, his breathing becoming more difficult, carefully extracted his hand from Cora's and, quietly as possible, left the foyer, headed for the library.

Cora turned her head in his direction, staring at his back as he went, worried. She couldn't get close enough to her baby to comfort her, so she waved Carson over. Her voice trembling, she said, "Carson, please inform the staff of this. Make sure Anna and Molesley know especially. And do thank Jimmy for us for taking Sybbie up to her nursery."

Carson's eyes flicked back to Mary, but he inclined his head to Cora. "It will be done, your ladyship."

Extending her hand, she asked. "Might you help me up?"

Taking her hand, Carson helped her stand and passed through the doorway with her where they parted ways – he toward the servants' stairs and she toward the library.

"Robert?" Cora went to him as quickly as she could once she saw that he sat on a chair, breathing heavily and clutching at his chest. "Darling?" she asked apprehensively, putting her hand on his back.

Robert shook his head, his eyes screwed tightly shut, unable to speak.

Cora swallowed her tears, comforted somewhat that he could do even that. "Is it – is it one of your episodes?" She prayed he'd say yes.

Barely managing a nod, Robert kept breathing heavily.

Closing her eyes briefly with a sigh of relief, she made her way to the drinks cabinet, pouring her husband a glass of water. She then stood beside him, took his hand, and held the glass, knowing that it would pass – knowing that he had this sort of attack when something got him truly upset. She'd witnessed only one herself – and then he'd been angry – but afterward he'd told her about them and that anger wasn't their sole trigger.

Eventually his breathing became easier and his face a more normal shade, and Robert pressed Cora's hand gently to indicate that the worst was over. Raising his eyes to her, he finally removed his other hand from his shirtfront and took the glass she handed him. He drank deeply, draining the glass and setting it down on the table beside him.

Then, surprising her, Robert drew her onto his lap, carefully, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her chest. It was then she realized that he was crying. Her own tears beginning again, Cora cradled his head, stroking his hair and leaning her cheek against his brow.

Just as Matthew had truly become like a son to Robert, he was gone.

* * *

Richard Clarkson's steps grew ever heavier as he approached the door to Crawley House. As much as he wanted someone else to give her the terrible news, not sure if he could endure to see the pain he knew it would cause her, he also knew that it could come from no one else. He had to be the one to tell her, and certainly not over the telephone.

He rang the bell and waited, taking off his hat and worrying the brim of it.

What he hadn't expected was for Isobel herself to answer the door, her face alight when she saw it was him.

"Oh, what a pleasant surprise," she said. "I wasn't expecting anyone for tea, but I can get Lily to bring another cup. Come in, and we'll go into the sitting room."

Dr. Clarkson sighed, watching her step back from the door and go ahead through the entry-way, calling out to the maid to make sure the tea tray had enough for two. He hung up his coat and hat and followed her into the neatly appointed sitting room. Waiting for her to sit, he sat across from her and wondered how on earth he was going to tell her what he had to tell her.

After a few moments, Isobel looked up from the tea tray and over at him. "My, you seem quite grim. Is there something you need to talk about?"

"Actually, Mrs. Crawley, there is."

Isobel listened to him as he told her what had happened, but felt as if she must have heard wrong. Something was wrong with her ears or her mind or perhaps his speech. Matthew couldn't be dead. He couldn't. He'd survived the War, he'd gotten through paralysis, he and Mary were going to have children and be marvelously happy. And she would be happy with them, playing with her grandchildren and watching her son be the kind of father his own father had been. It simply couldn't be true.

Dr. Clarkson watched as her eyes left his face and settled on some item by the fireplace, he wasn't sure what. He didn't think she actually saw anything, however. Her mouth was open, and she began to make a series of sounds, as if she were trying to speak, but couldn't. She appeared to be in shock.

Standing, he walked over to a small table where Isobel kept a limited variety of alcoholic beverages, but at least there was some brandy. Pouring some, he went back over to where she sat on the settee and sat beside her. Placing a gentle hand on her arm, he held the brandy out to her.

Absentmindedly, Isobel took the glass from him and had a sip, then another. She turned her head to look at him. "Tell me it isn't true," she said, somewhat more forcefully than he expected. "Please, tell me anything other than what you just told me. Please."

He shook his head slowly. "As much as I would like to, I can't."

"Richard, you can't tell me my world just ended," she said, closer to a whisper now as a lump rose in her throat, her eyes pleading with him.

He wanted nothing more at that moment than to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. But he couldn't. Instead, he moved his hand from her arm to her hand, closing it over hers. "I'm so sorry, Isobel."

Closing her eyes, Isobel slumped forward, her body shaking with her tears. Dr. Clarkson reached forward and pried the brandy glass out of her hand, placing it on the table. He hated this. He hated watching her fall to pieces – even though he'd been almost certain she would. The headstrong, confident, determined, and sometimes unrelenting and exasperating, woman he'd come to – well – _adore_ melted before him. How he wished he could comfort her somehow.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, Dr. Clarkson pulled her to him, having her lay her head on his shoulder, keeping his arm around her and rubbing hers consolingly. Isobel continued to cry, her breath coming in great gulps, somewhat conscious of feeling grateful for an arm around her, letting her head sink into the fabric of his jacket. At that moment, it was the only thing that kept her from falling into a black hole, thus, she clutched at him, grasping his lapel and hanging on.

Dr. Clarkson had no idea how any of it was happening, but when he felt her grab onto his jacket, he found himself with his hand and lips against her hair, murmuring soothingly. He just wanted to ease her pain somehow. But all his years as a doctor had taught him that in the wake of the death of a loved one, there was no cure nor balm to heal it. The only thing to do was to take as much comfort as you could from those with you. And as he was the only one there – he would be her comfort, if he could. If she would allow him to be.

In time, Isobel became aware that he was holding her, so, rather embarrassed, she lifted her head to look at him, her face wet with tears, her hand still around his jacket lapel. "Richard, I –" She stopped, unsure what she even wanted to say. The rug had just been pulled out from under her, but she couldn't help noticing the tender, concerned look on his face and in his blue eyes. It gave her solace in a way she couldn't have imagined, in a way she couldn't explain. She opened her mouth to speak again, but she still didn't know what to say. She lowered her eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, she felt his hands cup her face and his lips press to her cheek, then the other. She closed her eyes and let him feather kisses over her face, not remembering the last time anyone had treated her so tenderly. Isobel's heart was so very heavy and his touch so light…. It was surreal, in a way, but felt more real to her just then than the truth he'd had to tell her.

And then she felt his lips converge upon hers, but, again, gently, almost hesitantly. When she didn't pull away, he took one hand from her face, sliding it around her shoulders and drawing her closer. She hadn't yet removed her hand from his lapel, but now she uncurled her fingers and placed her hand tentatively upon his neck, leaning into him a bit more.

Moved by his gesture to comfort her, Isobel's tears began to fall again. Her teardrops upon his hand brought him back to himself, and he broke the kiss, turning his head away from her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I've taken a liberty, and… perhaps I should go."

Dr. Clarkson moved as if to get up, but was stilled by the tiniest of things: her thumb tracing back and forth lightly over his jawline, her hand not having moved from its place just above his collar. He turned to her again, looking into her eyes. They were so sad, yet had a soft quality to them just now as she gazed into his. "Don't go."

"Are you sure?"

Isobel nodded. "I – I don't think I can bear to be alone. You won't leave me alone, will you?"

He knew he could never leave her alone, especially when she asked him with such an expression of deep sadness on her face. Not only that, but there was also a sort of fear there, a kind he'd never seen before on her features, and it made him think he might weep too. "No, Isobel. I won't leave you alone."

With a great sigh that seemed to come from the deepest, darkest recesses of her soul, she withdrew her hand from his neck, but only to put her hand in his and rest her head on his shoulder once more. "Thank you, Richard."

"Isobel, you should drink something." The doctor in him knew that she could easily get dehydrated; the would-be suitor in him wanted to take care of her. "Some water, or perhaps Lily would make fresh tea…."

Dr. Clarkson watched as she leaned forward and picked up the brandy glass from the table, draining it in only a few gulps. She set it down again and resumed her place against his shoulder, physically and emotionally exhausted. "We were all supposed to have dinner at Downton tomorrow night," she remarked. "No doubt Cousin Violet would have grated on my nerves and Edith and Mary would have squabbled and Cora would have flaunted her pregnancy, but right now I'd give almost anything for it to be happening." She turned her head so it nuzzled more fully into his jacket. "Perhaps if I go to sleep, it'll be like wiping off a blackboard, and the day can be rewritten."

Sighing sadly, Dr. Clarkson rubbed her shoulder, wondering about her remark about Cora, but knowing it was certainly not the time to ask. "Do you want to take a nap before dinner?"

"I don't want dinner. And I don't want to wake up. Not if it will still be true when I do." Her words were barely discernible, muffled as they were by his shoulder.

"Let's take one step at a time, Isobel. May I help you upstairs?" He knew now this was going to be even more difficult for her to accept than he thought.

She stiffened. "Will you stay with me?" Her voice had that fearful note to it again.

"If that is what you would like." He stood, keeping hold of her hand as she led him slowly, silently up the stairs and into a room modestly but comfortably furnished. Now that they were here and she was closing the door behind them, he wasn't so sure. How would it look for him to be here? "Isobel, perhaps I –"

Isobel sat on a chair to take off her shoes. She looked up at him. "Richard, please, don't stand on ceremony now. I need my friend." Her shoes having been put aside, she rose and slid her hand in his, her eyes welling up again.

"Of course." He hoped he was more than her friend, but he would take that for now, especially as she'd said she needed him.

Squeezing his hand, she let it go and got up on the bed, unfolding a blanket from the foot of it. She arranged it over herself and leaned back against the pillows, turning her eyes to him.

Dr. Clarkson dragged a chair over to the side of the bed, so he could make sure she fell asleep. But as he was about to sit upon it, she shook her head. "Will you put your arms round me again?" she asked.

He gaped at her, wanting so desperately to comfort her, but suddenly becoming very confused. He stood there a moment, watching her stretch out her hand to him. The need to console her won out, and he gingerly climbed upon the bed, leaving his feet over the side, keeping himself carefully on top of the blanket she'd put over herself. She lifted herself up a little so he could slide an arm beneath her shoulders. Holding her against him, breathing in the scent of her soap – realizing that it truly was a familiar scent and so much a part of her – he allowed himself the impertinence of caressing her cheek.

Feeling safer with him there, it was not long before Isobel had fallen into blessed black oblivion.

* * *

At a knock on the door, Isobel started. "Mrs. Crawley," Lily was calling through the door.

It was pitch black and Isobel sharply drew in her breath to perceive that she wasn't alone in her bed. Then she remembered, and it was enough to make her want to crawl under the covers and never come out.

But Lily kept knocking and this woke Dr. Clarkson. He rubbed his eyes as Isobel leaned over to flick on a lamp. He glanced at the clock. Two in the morning.

They looked at one another, Isobel's expression drawn. She called out, "Lily, what is it?"

"Please, ma'am, Lord Grantham is on the telephone, and he said he thought Dr. Clarkson might be here. He needs to speak with him right away. What do I say?" She sounded a bit panicked.

Dr. Clarkson nodded, indicating he'd go to the telephone, no matter the repercussions of acknowledging that he was there.

"Lily, go tell Lord Grantham that Dr. Clarkson will be at the telephone shortly. I'll go to the guest room and wake him now."

As the maid called through to her, "Yes, Mrs. Crawley," Dr. Clarkson looked at Isobel in some gratitude. It wasn't necessarily his own reputation about which he was concerned, however. It was hers.

Isobel sat up and threw the blanket off, getting out of bed and putting her shoes on, straightening her dress. In a similar manner, he got up and smoothed his wrinkled jacket and shirt, shaking his trousers a little. She opened the door a crack and peeked out to make sure Lily had gone downstairs, then turned and nodded at him, gesturing for him to follow her.

Dr. Clarkson picked up the receiver. "Lord Grantham?" Isobel listened to the very short conversation, holding her breath for when Robert might inquire as to why Dr. Clarkson was not in his own home or at the hospital, but instead at her house still. But he didn't. Apparently Robert was too upset about something that was happening to his wife.

As he replaced the receiver, Dr. Clarkson glanced at Isobel, not wanting to leave her this way, but knowing he had to. Isobel shook her head. "Go."

"I'll come back, if you'd like me to, as soon as I make sure all is well at Downton." He wanted to touch her cheek, but Lily stood at the other side of the entry-way.

Nodding, close to tears, Isobel simply repeated, "Go." Then she watched him leave. "Lily," she said, staring at the closed door, "go back to bed."

"But – Mrs. Crawley – you haven't had dinner, and you didn't touch your tea. What's happened?" Lily took a step forward.

Isobel put a hand over her mouth and bowed her head, tears escaping her closed eyes. She couldn't even bear to say it. In a few moments, she got up enough strength to murmur, "I'll tell you tomorrow, Lily. For now, please, go back to bed."

She felt the maid leave her presence finally, even as she felt her hesitation to leave her thus. Isobel made her way down the hall to her sitting room, one hand still over her mouth and grasping at furniture for support as she went, unable to check her tears. With trembling hands she poured another brandy and drank it nearly in one, sputtering a bit, but thankful for the fire spreading down her throat and into the rest of her. Then she went and stretched out on the settee, cocooning herself in a blanket Ethel had made and sent to her from her new position – a position she'd taken to be closer to her own son.

Her entire body shaking with sobs now, Isobel lay there and waited for him. For Dr. Clarkson – or for Matthew – she really couldn't say.

* * *

When Carson let him in, relieving him of his coat and hat, Dr. Clarkson rushed toward Cora's bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time. He knocked on the door, and Hazel opened it, ushering him in. Cora sat up on the bed, looking thoroughly frightened, and Robert sat beside her, holding her hand and not looking much better.

"Clarkson, thank God," Robert said, jumping up and wringing his hand briefly.

"You said she felt contractions?" he asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.

"Yes, they woke her. Please, please tell me she isn't going into labor," Robert begged, running his hand back through his hair, his eyes taking on a wild aspect.

"Well, I won't know for sure until I've examined her. You can stay here or wait in the hall." Dr. Clarkson went to the bed and took his stethoscope out of his medical bag.

Robert and Cora exchanged a glance, and Robert nodded, turning to go into the hall, knowing that Hazel would come get him the moment Cora needed him for anything.

Dr. Clarkson asked Cora some questions and then slipped into the washroom to wash his hands before giving her a quick exam. Cora closed her eyes and grasped Hazel's hand while he did this, attempting to relax. Once he'd checked the few things he needed to, he put the covers back over her belly and smiled at her.

"Lady Grantham, there's nothing to worry about. It's something called false labor. Did you ever have it with your other pregnancies?" he asked.

Cora shook her head. "No, not that I remember, Doctor."

"Well, you're going to be just fine."

Cora's expression transformed into one of relief as she let out a long breath and squeezed Hazel's hand.

When Dr. Clarkson went back into the hallway, carrying his medical bag with him, Robert came up to him. He'd been pacing and his hair was completely disheveled. "Is she alright? And the baby?" His eyes were wide.

It felt nice to be able to deliver some good news today. "Yes, they're both fine. It's false labor, and many women have it. Especially in times of great stress." Dr. Clarkson sighed. "It's no wonder it came upon her, after today."

"But – but she'll be fine. The baby will be fine." They were less questions than statements that Robert desperately needed affirmed. He'd admit he'd had his doubts about Clarkson over the years, but after Sybil…. He would never go against his wife's choice of physician again. Even if, yes, he had insisted she get a second opinion on his previous diagnosis of menopause for her. And he did give Clarkson this: he always admitted when he'd been wrong and took it gracefully.

"Yes, Lord Grantham. I'll come check on her again in a day or two, unless her ladyship feels I should come sooner, of course. But I've explained to her the differences between false and true labor, the signs of each. She may have it again, especially as one of the ways to alleviate false labor pains is to avoid stress." He shook his head. "I know that in the coming weeks she won't be able to avoid it completely. But, Lord Grantham, be sure she gets a great deal of rest and drinks plenty of fluids. This will help too." He paused, watching Robert nod at this. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all. "How is Lady Mary?"

Robert rubbed his forehead. "I suppose she's as you'd expect, Clarkson. She recovered from the faint well enough, only to spend most of the afternoon and evening crying. She let her mother give her some tea, but she won't eat anything. Edith stayed with her, and last I checked, Mary was sleeping – thank the Lord."

Dr. Clarkson nodded. "Yes, it's good that she's being looked after, but she does need to eat something tomorrow, and fluids are even more important. If she gets too dehydrated, I'll have to insist she come to the hospital. I'll come and check on her tomorrow for sure."

"Yes, we'll do our best." Robert put his hand down and then looked at him quizzically. "Is Isobel alright? I mean – did something happen to her for you to still be there?"

His eyes softened a trifle and his countenance drooped. He shrugged. "She's completely heart-broken, Lord Grantham. I couldn't leave her there alone," he said simply.

"No," Robert said, understanding in his face. "I'm glad you didn't."

* * *

He had a feeling she'd left the door unlocked for him. So Dr. Clarkson tried the door handle, not wanting to disturb anyone if he didn't have to, hoping Isobel had gone back to sleep. It opened.

Noticing light coming from the sitting room, he went there and found her as he had hoped, asleep. Her hair had become loosened and a lock of it had fallen across her face. He moved it back gently so as not to wake her, then left the room to make his way down to the kitchen.

When he came back up, he set the tray on a table, then sat on the edge of the settee, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Isobel opened her eyes and looked up at him, but she didn't move.

"Isobel, you should eat something." He wanted to call her "dear" or "darling" or "sweetheart," but he knew it wasn't time for that. For now he would savor her first name upon his tongue, not having had the freedom to call her that before today.

She shook her head, not hungry.

Dr. Clarkson gave her an imploring gaze. "Please, Isobel. If you were the nurse in charge, what would you tell yourself?" He prevailed upon her medical training and her professional self, hoping that it would do the trick.

Isobel closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and then letting out a long breath through her nose. When she opened them again, she nodded, knowing he was right.

He helped her to sit up and set the tray over her lap. He'd heated up some chicken broth he'd found, and he'd made a pot of tea for her. He took the closest chair to the settee and watched as she began to eat.

Isobel had to admit she was hungrier than she'd thought and sipped at the broth gratefully. "Is Cora alright?" she asked, sounding somewhat hoarse.

"Yes, she's fine. False labor."

Nodding knowingly, Isobel kept sipping, her eyes on her soup dish. "Not surprising, given –" she choked on even these words – "given the events of the day."

Dr. Clarkson hoped that she could at least finish the broth before breaking down again. Then she'd have a little more strength.

"And Mary?" She met his eyes now.

"Lord Grantham said she was highly upset, but that she was sleeping, and Lady Edith was staying with her. Isobel, she fainted when I told her."

Isobel stared at him with tears in her eyes. "But," she whispered, "she recovered and she's resting?"

He could see this was important to her. "Yes. She's fine." _As fine as she can be, being made a widow so young,_ he thought.

Nodding again, Isobel returned to her broth. "I'll have her visit here tomorrow."

"Isobel, why don't you go there, be with your family?"

Now she shook her head. "No, no, I can't go there. Not – not yet."

Dr. Clarkson sat in silence until she finished her broth and drank several cups of tea. Then he asked, "I know this is an impertinent question, and will possibly get me thrown out of your sitting room, but I have to ask: does it have to do with Lady Grantham?" She didn't look at him. "I ask only because you said something earlier, about her flaunting her pregnancy…."

Isobel shut her eyes tightly. "It was unkind of me to say that, and I'm sorry for it. Because, she doesn't, you know. She's so happy that she glows, but it's not a reason to be resentful." She turned to face him, her eyes once more brimming with tears. "I know she's lost a child. Two, in fact. And I saw, both times, how very deeply it affected her. She is a good mother, and a caring one, even if we don't always see eye to eye on how best to care for our children." She took a deep breath. "And I know how horribly unfair it is for any of us to have to see any of our children go before we do."

He fixed his eyes on hers, wondering that she could keep her voice so steady, even as her entire form trembled and her tears fell fast.

"I don't wish any ill on Cora or Robert or their baby. I am, truly, happy for them. But, even in their losses, they've still had Mary and Edith and each other, and then Sybbie and now even a new child. But I have no one, Richard. No one. Matthew was everything to me, you see. And now he's gone." She looked down at the empty soup bowl. "So perhaps you understand why I can't go there."

Dr. Clarkson heaved a deep sigh. He thought he did actually understand why. It was why he knew he needed to stay with her. The reality of the sudden loss of the only person she had left in the world who was truly hers threatened to engulf her entirely.

Isobel saw that he was taking the tray from her and setting it back on the table. Then he knelt in front of her and slid his hands under hers. "Isobel, is there anything at all I can do?"

She met his eyes, and, realizing that the very way he said her name was a caress, she gave him the tiniest of smiles, the first time he'd seen her smile since that afternoon. "Richard, you're already doing everything I need." Then – whether from exhaustion or gratitude or the need to be close to someone or simply the way he was looking at her – she bent down and kissed him.

This time he didn't stop it.

* * *

Mary slid out of bed very early. She didn't ring for Anna, but got herself dressed as best she could. She watched Edith sleep, her heart suddenly welling up with gratitude for how her sister had stayed by her, despite how things had been between them, especially since the servants' ball. Her mind went back to Edith's words then: _If you don't wish to accept my friendship, fine. But don't come knocking on my door if things go truly sour for you._

But the thing was, Mary hadn't had to knock. Edith had simply been there, no questions asked.

So when Mary had finished dressing and gathered her coat, hat and handbag, she touched her sister's cheek lightly, then departed.

It was not long until Mary was ringing the bell of Crawley House. Isobel had been awake for some time, having seen Richard off about an hour before, as he needed to get home and change to get to the hospital. She hated to see him go – for a number of reasons, some of which made complete sense to her and some of which made absolutely no sense at all. But that was the fact of the matter: she hated to see him go.

Mary was shown in by Lily, who looked at her sympathetically. _So the household knows_, Mary thought, hanging up her coat and hat and placing her handbag on the entry-way table. Her reflection was frightening, and Mary barely recognized the woman in the mirror as herself. _Of course_, she thought, _I won't really ever be the same again_.

"Mrs. Crawley is in the sitting room, Lady Mary," Lily said, gesturing for her to follow.

Mary nodded curtly and let herself be ushered to the room.

"Lady Mary, ma'am," Lily said, stepping aside for her to enter.

Isobel got up from her place at the desk and looked at her daughter-in-law as Mary said, weakly, "I'm sorry for coming this early, but…." Mary had managed to keep her composure since waking, but when she saw how Isobel's eyes turned tender, how pinched her face was, how black the circles under her eyes, she couldn't do it any longer. Mary went to her and pulled her into a tight embrace, tears soaking into Isobel's blouse. "Oh, Isobel."

"I know, Mary." Isobel's tears had been used up the night before. She was completely wrung, empty. So she held her daughter-in-law and wondered how the two of them would recover. Because, in spite of everything, they would recover. Matthew would want them to go on.

* * *

A few hours later, Mary was back in her own room, Anna packing a case for her. Mary went through some of Matthew's things, putting some of them in a box. Cora came through the open door, then stared around, a puzzled look on her face.

"Mary, what are you doing?"

Mary didn't look up from Matthew's bedside table drawer. "I'm going to stay with Isobel for a while."

Cora lowered herself into a chair. "Anna? Might you be a dear and go get us some tea?"

Anna nodded and left, closing the door behind her, knowing this was a signal that Cora wanted some privacy with her daughter.

"You didn't have to send her away, Mama."

Ignoring this, Cora smoothed her hands over her belly and watched her daughter. "Mary, I know you're upset, but that's exactly why you should stay here with us. We're your family."

Mary continued to put various things into the box. "I'm not going forever. Just for a week or so. Perhaps two. Isobel shouldn't be alone."

"Then why don't you ask her to come here?" Mary's calm demeanor disturbed Cora.

"I did. She won't come." Mary paused, a small stuffed animal in her hands. She swallowed hard and put this aside, her hand staying on it for a moment before taking a deep breath and going back to the drawer.

"Whyever not? We're her family too, and we care about her." Cora's voice caught as she spoke her next words. "She would have the empathy of another mother who'd lost a child."

Mary thought back to the conversation she'd had with Isobel earlier that morning. She thought she understood why it would be too difficult for Isobel to be there – particularly with her mama – just yet. She finally tore her eyes from the drawer and fixed them on her mother's. "Mama, I don't think you realize that, yes, you've lost a grown-up child too, but you have the rest of us. You have Papa. Isobel lost not just a child yesterday – she lost her whole world." She watched as her mama's visage became pained. "I don't say this to be insensitive, Mama. I know your heart hurts – for both of us – but it's just not the same. And, to be honest, I'm afraid for her. I don't want her to fall ill from grief. Someone needs to take care of her."

Two great tears slid down Cora's cheeks. "Baby," she whispered, "who will take care of you?"

"Mama, I can't worry about me. I need to focus on something else, to take care of someone, because if I don't –" now she faltered, "if I don't, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get out of bed again." She bowed her head.

Cora hoisted herself from the chair and crossed over to her daughter, putting her arms around her. "Darling, you do what you have to. But, please, please, do something for me?"

"What's that, Mama?" she whispered into her mother's collar bone.

"Take care of yourself too. I am your mother, and I love you, and I'll worry. Telephone or come visit. Every day. I need to make sure you're alright, too." Cora kissed her hair. "Will you do that for me, Mary?"

Mary sighed deeply, inhaling the smell of her mother's perfume. "Yes, Mama. I promise."

* * *

Robert had a quiet dinner with Edith and Tom. Their faces were etched with grief and exhaustion. Cora had had a tray sent up to her room.

"I saw that Mary was settled in at Crawley House. But I didn't see Isobel at all. She doesn't want to see anyone but Mary –" He almost added "and Dr. Clarkson" but found it unnecessary that anyone else should know.

"And Granny?" Edith asked. She barely touched her food.

"She's a bit upset, as can be imagined, but took it just like I thought she would." Robert rubbed his forehead and had a long drink of wine. "At least she had the grace not to mention the question of an heir. Yet." He looked as close to tears as Edith and Tom had seen him since Sybil's passing.

Tom put his serviette aside, not having much appetite himself. "Surely all that can wait, Robert. I think she knows that too."

"Does she? Sometimes I'm not so sure. It didn't take her long when Patrick and James died." Unmindful of his dining room manners in his distress, he put his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands, deeply tired. "Is Sybbie alright?"

"She knows something is very wrong, Robert. It's upsetting her, but I haven't told her yet. I'm not sure how."

"It might be prudent to tell her sooner, rather than later, Tom. Children tend to be more resilient than their elders." He didn't lift his head from his hands.

Tom nodded. "You're right, Robert, of course."

Edith turned to him. "I could be there too, if you like, Tom. It might be easier."

"Thank you, Edith. I think I'll take you up on that offer. Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow." She had the last of her wine and pushed her plate back. "I'm going up to bed now, I think. Goodnight." A footman held her chair for her and she stood, placing a hand on Tom's shoulder as she walked by, then leaning down to kiss her papa's cheek. "I love you, Papa," she whispered as she straighted back up, somehow knowing he needed to hear it.

* * *

Hazel met Robert as he came up from the dining room, both he and Tom deciding upon an early night as well. She wrung her hands in front of her.

"Perkins? Is her ladyship alright?" He stood in front of the tiny woman, looking down at her in deep concern.

"Your lordship," she said in a whisper, "she won't get in the bath. I didn't say anything last night because I thought she was simply that tired, but – she flatly refused tonight. And the doctor said it would help her – warm baths – with the false labor."

Robert closed his eyes. "I thought we'd gotten past this. She was doing so well, as long as one of us was at least in the bedroom…." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Leave it to me, Perkins. You can tell Bates he can go home now. I'll look after myself tonight."

"Yes, my lord," she said, looking more at ease to put the problem into his hands, knowing he'd find a way to convince her.

"Thank you, Perkins. Goodnight." He gave her a weak smile and then opened the bedroom door. "Cora?" he said, closing the door behind him.

Cora blinked open her eyes and smiled to see him. "Is everyone alright?"

"Yes, darling. Just very tired." He sat on the bed beside where she reclined and took her hand. "But I'm more worried about you."

"Robert, I'm fine. Dr. Clarkson said –"

Robert was shaking his head. "Clarkson told you that warm baths were good for you, did he not?"

Her face fell. "Hazel said something to you, didn't she?" She closed her eyes in shame and sadness.

Touching her face, Robert said softly, "Cora, what's brought this on? I don't understand."

"Robert, it's just – there's been too much pain and suffering in this house. Too much loss. I can't help remembering the last time." She looked at him now, almost imploringly, stroking her hand protectively over her belly.

Leaning closer to her, Robert lifted her hand and kissed it. "Do you remember several months ago, when you had this feeling before, and what you said to me?"

Cora took a deep breath and nodded, whispering, "I told you that I didn't want our child having a fearful mother."

He gazed at her and brushed her hair back from her face, then rested it next to hers on her baby bump. "And now?"

Her lashes grew wet. "Now either."

Kissing her hand again, he got up and went into the washroom, turning on the tap and putting the plug in the drain of the bath. Then he came back into the bedroom and began tugging at his clothes, pulling them off and laying them neatly over the back of a chair.

"What are you doing?" Cora asked, perplexed.

"I'm rather exhausted and in need of relaxation myself. I thought I'd have a bath with my wife, if she'll join me." He slid his braces down his arms and unbuttoned his trousers.

"Robert…." She didn't know what to say to this.

He shrugged a bit. "It's truly up to you, Cora. I'm not going to make you have a bath, not knowing how it makes you feel, not in your condition. I'm simply giving you an option. I'll be with you the whole time." He stood there in his underthings, then walked into the washroom to check on the water. He poured in some of her favorite lavender oil and spread dry towels over the floor as they'd been doing for months.

As he turned off the tap, he looked around and saw her standing in the doorway. "My back _has_ been hurting," she said.

Robert gave her a tender glance and moved forward to take her hand, then lift her night dress over her head and help her with her undergarments. Removing his own underthings, he helped his trembling wife into the bath then slid in behind her, water sloshing over the sides. Robert wrapped his arms around Cora's middle, resting his hands on her baby bump, hoping she wouldn't insist they both stay in forever as the floor might now be slippery.

He was surprised when he felt her relax in his embrace and heard her chuckle, saying, "There's hardly room for water in here, Robert, between you and my belly."

Reaching up to push her hair aside, he pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "I love your belly. And you, my beautiful and brave wife." Robert cradled her to him, her back smooth against his chest.

"You make me brave," Cora whispered, taking his hands and lacing her fingers through his. "Your arms around me gives me strength."

* * *

Mary had gone up to bed after making sure that Isobel had eaten something, being an example for her in eating as much of her own dinner as she could herself. But then she'd felt rather ill. Not wanting Isobel to worry unnecessarily, Mary pleaded a headache – not that she would have needed to plead anything with her mother-in-law, as weary as she looked – and went to her room.

Isobel curled up on the settee, hoping Mary would be alright, and lost in other thoughts as well. Just as she'd decided to go up to bed herself – knowing she wouldn't sleep – Lily's head appeared in the doorway.

"Mrs. Crawley, you have a visitor, if you don't mind having one at this hour. He said if you were too tired, he'd leave."

The leap that her heart made was quite unexpected, taking her by surprise. "Who?"

"It's Dr. Clarkson, ma'am. Shall I tell him to call back tomorrow?"

Isobel couldn't keep a blush from creeping into her cheeks. She hoped Lily couldn't see it in the dimness of the room, Isobel having only the light of the fire in the sitting room tonight. "No, Lily, you may show him in. And then you can go to bed. I'll show him out when he's ready to leave."

"Yes, Mrs. Crawley," she said, withdrawing her head.

Isobel clasped her hands together in her lap nervously. He had said that he would come by to see her that evening, but now that Mary was staying with her, she hadn't been sure he still would.

Dr. Clarkson stepped into the darkened room, thankful to find Isobel alone. However, the transformation that grief had already wrought over her features in little over twenty-four hours – which he could see even by the light cast by the fire – caused him deep concern. He remained standing, unsure how she would receive him. "How are you?"

"About as well as could be expected, I suppose," she replied. Then, in a softer voice, she said, "Relieved to see you again, Richard."

"And Lady Mary?" He was reassured a trifle by her tone, but still uncertain.

Isobel looked down. "The poor child has lost her husband. But she's Mary." A wry smile appeared on her face. "She's decided to bury her grief by taking care of me." She lifted her eyes to him again. "But I know better. On the inside she feels her heart will never beat again. It's how I felt when Matthew's father – " She stopped herself, lowering her head, not wishing to speak of it anymore.

Dr. Clarkson simply nodded.

"Well," Isobel said, sighing, "It suits me well, because I can keep an eye on her too. Not that she wouldn't get care at home, but I think, in a way, she wanted to be close to the other person in his life who knew him best." She tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace. Somehow, with Mary, she could hold herself together. Perhaps it was for Mary's sake that she did. But in front of him – she knew she didn't have to. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm being a dreadful hostess."

"Don't apo–"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Please sit down, Richard. Here next to me, if you don't mind. And can I offer you a drink or – oh. Well, I dismissed Lily for the night but I could go down and make us some tea…."

While she nervously went on, Dr. Clarkson had taken his place next to her and put a hand over hers. "Isobel. Stop. You don't have to be that way, not with me." She looked at him. "Now, I'll have a drink, if you have one with me, and if you let me serve you."

Her eyes still bright with tears, she inclined her head, assenting. Feeling bolder now, he kissed her cheek before he got up to pour two sherries. He handed her one before sitting beside her again, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his side.

"Thank you, Richard," she said, softly. She tilted her face up at him. "I don't know how to tell you how much –"

"Shhh, Isobel," he told her, kissing her forehead. "Let's just rest here together a while, mayn't we?"

Blinking back grateful tears, Isobel nodded, then faced the fireplace again, resting her head back in the crook of his arm, sipping her sherry. She knew that he understood that she didn't yet have the words to tell him how she felt. That she didn't even know how she felt exactly, that it was still all a dark mystery to her. Her grief was profound and true, but somehow, he'd given her something to cling to, whether ephemeral or not. Right here, right now, it was exactly what she needed.

* * *

Black: "fear, sadness, mourning, death"


	9. Green

Late April, 1922

"Edith, will you please stop hovering. I am not ill; I do not need a nursemaid! And Anna knows perfectly well what she's doing," Mary exclaimed in exasperation. "You would have thought I was home from a long stay in hospital instead of simply living with Isobel for a few weeks, the way you're fussing over me!"

In fact, Mary had been at her mother-in-law's for nearly a month. She'd arrived home about a week ago, when Edith started mothering her mercilessly.

Her cheeks growing pink, Edith took a step back. "I didn't realize, Mary. I'll go if you like." She began to turn away.

Watching her heavy steps in the mirror, Mary sighed. "No, don't go, Edith." Her eyes found the reflection of her lady's maid's. "Anna, might you see if Mama would let me borrow her black spangled shawl? The one I've been wearing is too heavy for the warmer weather."

Putting one last pin in Mary's chignon, Anna nodded and said, "Yes, my lady. I'll fetch it now." She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mary turned now in her chair, beginning to tug on a pair of black evening gloves. "I didn't mean to snap at you, Edith. I know you mean well."

Edith perched on the edge of a chair. "I just keep remembering the things I said to you, and it makes me feel awful. I never wanted anything bad to happen." She bowed her head, her hands clasped in her lap.

Stopping herself from rolling her eyes, Mary looked over at her sister. "You never said you did, Edith. And, as for the rest of it – you were right."

Her head snapped up in incredulity. "What?"

"Yes, you were right. I knew it in part the night of the servants' ball. Granny overheard us, and she spoke to me." Mary turned back to her dressing table to fasten on a pair of plain black earrings. "The rest…. Edith, I had a lot of time to think whilst at Isobel's. And it was wrong of me to be resentful of Mama." Here she looked down.

Edith stood and came over to her sister, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We don't have to speak about that anymore. It's done. Especially if you accept my apology for my behavior."

Mary lifted her head and sighed. "Of course I do. And I hope you'll accept mine."

Nodding, Edith pressed Mary's shoulder.

"But, Edith, would you do one thing for me?" Mary met her eyes in the glass and held them with her own.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Might you stop mothering me so much? I already have two mothers; I don't need a third." Mary smiled a little and was gratified when the smile was returned. "But I'll take a sister."

* * *

Cora reclined in her husband's favorite chair after dinner, it being the most comfortable to her at the moment. She knew he wouldn't have minded, even if he wasn't still in the dining room with Tom and Dr. Clarkson.

Smoothing her hands over her black-clad baby bump, she shifted slightly against the cushion she'd put at the small of her back and then uncrossed her ankles and recrossed them the other way on the ottoman. Now, having gotten a trifle more comfortable, she gazed around the room. Edith and Violet were on the settee not too far from her, conversing in low voices to where she couldn't hear. Violet had inquired earlier if Cora might be too tired to stay the rest of the evening, but Cora had smiled at her and said that she was happy to venture downstairs when she could and would stay as long as she didn't fall asleep. Her mother-in-law had smiled and patted her hand as Edith helped her mother into the chair.

Mary and Isobel stood by a window together, talking. Isobel had suggested they invite Dr. Clarkson that evening, to which no one objected. He'd been so kind to all the family over the past month, that they were happy to include him for dinner. Furthermore, although Isobel's visage had acquired quite a few lines since her son's death, and her grief was clearly visible, Cora thought she'd detected a blush on Isobel's cheeks and a tiny spark in her eyes when there was any mention of Dr. Clarkson. Tonight, seeing them in the same room made clear to Cora that there was something budding between the two of them. She knew Isobel would never completely get over losing Matthew – after all, could Cora ever completely get over losing Sybil? – but she also knew, especially after tonight, that Isobel would be just fine, eventually.

It was Mary for whom she worried. True to her word, while she'd been staying at Isobel's, Mary had come by or telephoned at least once a day, to reassure her mother that she was alright. But Cora wasn't at all certain that Mary _was_ alright. Cora watched her daughter with concern. Isobel spoke to her, but Mary's eyes stared unseeingly into the darkness outside the window. It was difficult to know which was more startling: the pallor or the pinched aspect of her countenance. She'd been losing weight as well, her dresses hanging on her, even though her mother knew that Mary ate – more than she would have thought she might in her obvious misery. She wondered if something else was wrong, something other than grief. Cora tore her eyes from her daughter and fixed them upon her own hands that rested on her belly instead.

In the next moment, Mary turned her face toward her mother, observing how she lovingly cradled the ever more pronounced bulge of her stomach. Though no longer resentful of her mother's pregnancy – as she'd told Edith earlier – she couldn't help feeling a stab of envy, a feeling she endeavored to bury as soon as it appeared. She and Matthew had tried to have a baby for over a year before Mary decided to visit a specialist – Dr. Ryder, in fact, at her mother's suggestion. After a small operation in January (about which only her mother knew) and a weeks' recovery, she'd assumed that it wouldn't take long. But now….

Now she wasn't sure of anything – save that she missed her husband terribly.

After about a quarter of an hour more, just as Cora was beginning to nod off, the gentlemen came into the room. Robert's eyes went directly to his wife, as always, grinning at her as she jerked awake. She grinned back at him and extended her hand as he approached her. Robert took it and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Mary saw this out of the corner of her eye as she watched Tom and Dr. Clarkson also wander in. Tom went over to her mother and father to see if they needed anything. Dr. Clarkson walked over to Violet and Edith, his eyes flickering to Isobel. Mary saw Isobel blush, but it didn't really register, since she was wondering what was keeping Matthew.

Then she remembered. Becoming dizzy and feeling ill all of a sudden, she put her hand on the window sill. "Isobel, I think I need to go up to bed. Make my excuses to the others?" Mary's voice was scarcely a whisper. "I'm sorry…." she trailed off and rushed out of the room, several shades paler than she'd even been in the past weeks and covering her mouth.

Cora's eyes followed her out of the room, then she turned to Isobel, her hand tightening around Robert's. "Isobel, what happened?"

Isobel started toward the others. "I'm not sure. She said only that she thought she needed to go to bed." Her brow creased with concern, her eyes meeting Dr. Clarkson's across the room.

"Robert, I should go to her," Cora said, looking up at him.

Edith rose from her place on the settee. "No, Mama, I'll go." She and her mother exchanged nods, and Edith exited the room.

"Mary?" Edith knocked on the half open door to her sister's bedroom. When she got no answer, she went ahead in, stopping when she saw no one. Then she saw the light coming from the washroom. "Mary, it's Edith." She rapped her knuckles on door. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Edith," came Mary's voice. "You can come in."

Edith entered the washroom where Mary stood over the sink, wiping her face with a wet cloth. "Do you need anything?"

Mary shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I'm just very tired. You know me; I'm never down for long." But she sighed. "Would you ring the bell for Anna for me?"

"Of course."

As Edith turned to fulfill this request, Mary looked at her. "Edith, could you do me one other favor?" Edith faced her again, and Mary continued, saying, "Please don't tell Mama I've been ill. I don't want to worry her."

Edith stared at her. "Don't you think she's already worried?" She went on without waiting for Mary's answer. "No, I won't say anything. But if you get worse, I'll have to say something to someone." She left to ring for Anna.

* * *

"Robert?" Cora whispered into their darkened room.

"What is it, Cora?" he murmured sleepily into her neck. They'd been in bed for a little while now, and he was nestled up behind her, one arm beneath her neck and the other wrapped around her belly, his chest against her back.

"Would you mind backing up a bit? I'm hot." She hated asking him, but she was beginning to perspire with a hot flash.

Robert immediately complied, not necessarily wanting to let go, but knowing it would make her more comfortable. "Would you like some water, sweetheart?" He switched on her bedside lamp and watched as she turned onto her back, then helped her into a sitting position.

She pulled at her night dress, nodding. "Please?"

He poured her a glass of water from the carafe kept on her bedside table, then handed it to her. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he noticed her tugging at her night dress. "Darling, let me." He unbuttoned the bodice of the night dress for her while she drank, then helped pull it over her head when she'd put the glass aside. He disappeared into the washroom, returning with a wet cloth, which he ran over her flushed face and chest.

Cora observed his tender actions with a grateful look. "Thank you, my love." She picked up a book from his bedside table and fanned herself with it. "I still can't get used to sleeping on your side of the bed," she remarked.

Robert chuckled as he continued to run the cloth over her. "Well, if you want me to sleep this close to you, and you have to sleep on your left side, it's the only way." He raised his eyes to hers. "Unless, of course, you want to sleep with our heads at the foot of the bed," he said playfully.

She laughed. "It's not as if we haven't done that before."

"Not on purpose, though." He smirked at her.

"No, not on purpose." Cora touched his cheek, her breathing becoming easier.

Robert gently lifted the locks curled with dampness away from her forehead, pressing the cloth against it. Cora closed her eyes. "Feeling better?" he asked.

She nodded, still fanning herself. "Yes, a little." When she opened her eyes again, her brow furrowed. "Robert, I'm concerned about Mary."

Refolding the cloth, he looked down, his head moving slowly up and down. "I know. So am I. Edith said she was fine, but…."

"You see it too, don't you?" Cora put the book aside and laid a hand on his.

Robert raised his head. "She looks unwell. Beyond grief. We need to convince her to see Dr. Clarkson."

Cora's eyes held his. "I agree. I'll talk to her tomorrow. We're going to take Sybbie for a walk in the gardens in the morning."

Now Robert moved closer, grazing his fingers across his wife's cheek. "Are you sure you need to be walking around the gardens?"

"Oh, darling, don't be silly. I'll be fine. I need the exercise. And I can't stay cooped up here all the time. I'll go mad." She gazed at him tenderly. "I'll stop and rest, at every bench if it will put you at ease, Robert."

"It would, in fact." He took her hand and kissed it, keeping his eyes on hers. "And come inside the minute you feel tired." He turned her hand and placed another gentle kiss on the underside of her wrist.

"I will," she said.

"Besides, I'm not sure that you don't get enough exercise already." He glanced up at her, mischief on his face, as his lips made their way up the soft skin of her forearm.

Cora smirked at him, picking up the cloth he'd discarded and dropping it on the floor. "No? Well, then I'm not sure you need to be going much farther up there, darling."

"Oh, you misunderstand me, Cora. I'm just putting you back to bed." He had noticed that her skin had lost its flush of heat, but now her cheeks were red and she giggled.

"In that case, carry on." She closed her eyes as he traveled over the inside of her elbow and up to her shoulder, and caused chills to reach all through her body when he dipped his tongue into the hollow of her collar bone. Cora put a hand to the nape of his neck as he finally pressed his lips to hers, pulling him closer and urging him to kiss her deeper.

Robert did as she wanted for several moments, then sat back. "Now, I don't want you to get too warm again, so…." He slid her undergarments down and off, making her giggle again. "Nor would I want to affect you…." He began unbuttoning his night shirt, leaning forward to kiss her once more.

Cora put her hands on either side of his face, holding him there while he worked his way out of his night shirt. She let him go so he could divest himself of the rest of his garments. Then he bent toward her again, kissing her soundly as her hands reached up to his chest, trailing her fingertips through his curls and over his nipples.

Making a series of low groans at her touches, he continued to kiss her, extending his arms around behind her head to loosen her hair from its ribbon – a very familiar shade of emerald green. He let this drop as he thrust his hands into her dark tresses. As her hands wandered farther down, his moans became gruffer.

"It's a shame you can't put on that green scarf for me," he breathed in her ear, "seeing that color in your hair put a decidedly delicious image in my head." His head tilted down so he could suck gently at the delicate skin of her throat.

Her breathing came in gasps at his attentions, but she managed to murmur, "I could go get it, darling. If you like…."

"No, sweetheart." He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire. "It's time for bed." With this statement, he helped her shift down and rest on her left side again, then stretched his arm behind him to switch off the light. "Are you comfortable, my love?" He asked, settling behind her, never forgetting her condition, even as much as he needed her.

Cora turned her head back. "Yes. Robert, please…." She reached back and found his arousal, stroking him.

"God, Cora –" Robert took her hand from him and kissed it, curling his body more closely around hers. Bent at the knee, he put one of his legs between hers and pushed himself into her gently, picking up the hand she had rested upon his hip and knitting his fingers through hers. Slowly, he began moving against her, taking the bulk of the motion onto himself, as the larger she grew, the more difficult it was for her to move along with him. He didn't mind, as long as he could still thrill and delight her this way, and it didn't cause her discomfort, it was more than worth it for him.

Kissing along the soft skin of her back, Robert began to increase his tempo as Cora's low sighs and small gasps transformed into deeper and more guttural sounds and she wriggled her hips, sending waves of pure pleasure into his very core. Suddenly, her legs clamped around his, and he withdrew his own leg as he felt her other hand find its way between her legs. She shuddered around his arousal, her breathing ragged, squeaks escaping her throat. "Robert," she whispered as she grew still, catching her breath.

After this, recognizing that she was too tired to let him continue to send her over the edge, he allowed himself to feel fully how she still contracted around him. Not holding back, he brought her hand to his lips once more as he thrust into her one final time, then rocked his hips gently to and fro against hers a few times before also stilling, nuzzling his forehead into her neck.

Cora felt his breath against her shoulders. "Darling?" she whispered, pulling his arm around her, their fingers still intertwined.

"Yes, sweetheart." He pressed light kisses to her back.

"Aren't you going to tuck us in now?" She chuckled wearily.

Robert lifted his head a little. "I need my hand for just a moment then," he pointed out, chuckling gently with her.

She brought his hand up to her mouth and placed her lips upon the back of each finger before letting it go.

Robert stretched an arm down to pull the bed clothes up over them, tucking them tenderly around her. "Is that better?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her again and resting it upon her baby bump.

"Yes." Cora turned her head a bit. "Kiss me goodnight?"

Smiling in the dark, he sat up a little and crushed his lips to hers in a long kiss. When he ended it, Robert said, "Oh, how I love you, my heart. Sweet dreams."

Cora put her hand over his on her bump, looking up to where she could make out the outline of his face. "I love you too, my darling. Goodnight."

Giving her one more tender kiss, Robert settled against her once more, cradling her in his arms until the two of them fell asleep.

* * *

Cora put another pin through her hat in preparation to go outside with Sybbie and Mary – just to be safe. Sybbie had a habit of embracing her a bit zealously, knocking the hat off her head if it wasn't securely pinned.

"Hazel? I'd like you to find my emerald green silk scarf, please." Cora grinned at her reflection in the full-length mirror, smoothing her dress over her belly lovingly. "I think it's either in my dressing table somewhere, or one of my bedside table drawers. Make sure it's clean and pressed for tonight."

The lady's maid glanced up from gathering the laundry. "My lady?" she asked in some confusion. "Green?" She abstractedly touched her own black armband.

Cora shook her head. "Oh, it's not for dinner, Hazel. I want it for something else." She blushed and lowered her lashes. "Just please be sure to find it. I would do it myself, but can't quite bend enough to search through the lower drawers, where I think I left it."

A knowing smile played upon Hazel's lips. "Yes, your ladyship. I'll certainly do that. And take the opportunity to look for any stale food we may have overlooked in the past month."

Laughing, Cora started toward the bedroom door. "I don't think you'll find any, but that's a very good idea. Just in case." Smiling at Hazel again, she left the room to join her daughter and granddaughter at the staircase.

"Mama, do you need help?" Mary had an excited Sybbie on her hip.

Cora looked at Mary with concern. "No, I'm fine. We just have to take it nice and slow here. You mind Sybbie – I'll mind Amelia." She patted her stomach and grasped the banister.

"Gan-mama, Sybbie play wif 'Melia?" Sybbie appeared anxious to meet her new aunt. Ever since she'd been told Grandmama was carrying a baby, she'd been asking if she could play with her.

Mary felt the pain of jealousy once more. She shifted her eyes from her mother to her niece. "It'll still be a while yet, Sybbie dear. Until then, Grandmama is going to keep the baby safe and warm."

Sybbie touched the side of Mary's face. "An-Mare-ee? Gan-mama get bigger?"

Here Cora paused to laugh, answering the question for her daughter. "Yes, Sybbie, Grandmama will probably get even bigger before the baby is ready to make her appearance."

Mary didn't laugh.

They finally made it down the stairs and to the foyer. Carson waited there to open the door for them. "Lady Mary," he said, "a parcel arrived for you this morning."

"Thank you, Carson. Would you tell Anna to put it my room? I'll open it after luncheon." Mary smiled a little at the butler.

"Very good, my lady," he said, nodding his head as he held the door for them.

The two black-clad figures meandered into the gardens. Whereas even only a month before it had looked so bare and bleak, tiny buds being the most prominent sign that anything still lived, now the trees and shrubberies displayed their finest green attire and flowers had sprung up along the path, giving the entire estate a fresh, vibrant aspect. Cora noticed as Mary put Sybbie down to walk, grasping her hand with a "keep hold of Aunt Mary, please; we don't want you wandering off and getting lost," that the little girl, too, wore a frock of deep green. They'd all decided that as long as the colors weren't too bright, she might wear them. None of them wanted to see their sweet, lively Sybbie pent up in black.

Mary stayed mostly silent as she strolled between her mother and her niece. Holding Sybbie's hand helped Mary stay at their pace, as her mother's condition made her tread almost as slowly as Sybbie's normal stride. In fact, Cora's gait was more a waddle than a walk, but Mary would never say this to her, knowing it would hurt her feelings.

True to her promise to her husband, Cora had them stop at the first bench she saw. Waving Mary's hand away, she lowered herself carefully onto the bench to rest. Mary continued to stand, but picked Sybbie up so she could sit next to Cora. Since she could no longer sit on her grandmother's lap, Sybbie had created a game for herself, where she would press her little hands into Cora's belly and wait to see if the baby pressed back. She'd been doing this ever since Cora had shown Sybbie that there was truly a baby inside her by having her feel the movements for herself a couple of months before.

Cora chuckled when Sybbie squealed with delight as the baby kicked at her hands. "Little darling, I think you woke her up." She hoped that the next thing Amelia kicked wouldn't be her bladder.

Leaving Sybbie to her game – having gotten used to this over the past months – Cora observed her daughter. Mary stared out over the estate, appearing to be in a daze. The shadows under her eyes provided a study in contrasts, stark against the pallor of the rest of her face in the morning sunlight.

"Mary, won't you sit down?" Cora's voice was soft.

Pulling herself out of her trance, Mary shook her head. "No, thank you, Mama. I'm fine."

Cora absentmindedly ran her fingers through her granddaughter's hair. "Are you? Are you fine, Mary?"

Mary finally sat on the other side of Sybbie, looking over at her mother. "Mama, my husband is gone. I don't think I'll ever truly be fine." She lowered her eyes to her hands, fiddling with her wedding rings. "Would you be?"

Eyes filling with tears, Cora touched Sybbie's shoulder. "Little one, might you go and pick us some flowers? Right over there?" She pointed to a spot a bit away, but within their range of vision. "Don't go farther than that, alright? Stay where we can see you."

Sybbie stood on the bench and patted her grandmother's face. "Don't cry, Gan-mama. Sybbie pick flowers." Climbing down without help, Sybbie ran off in her little green dress toward the patch of flowers.

Cora slid herself closer to Mary and touched her knee. "No. No, I wouldn't be. And you know that. But, Mary," she said, moving her hand to her chin, lifting it and fixing her blue eyes on her daughter's deep brown ones, "I'm not sure it's just that. We're afraid you may be ill."

"We?" Mary asked, her brows raised, wondering if her sister had said something when she'd promised not to.

Her mother nodded. "We. Your father and I. I think Edith has noticed something too. And I can tell Isobel is worried about you, although she doesn't say so."

"Edith didn't say anything to you?"

A crease appeared on Cora's forehead. "No, she didn't. Mary, we can see something is wrong. More than grief. Please," she pleaded, taking her hand, "your papa and I would feel better if you would see Dr. Clarkson."

"You would, would you?" Mary pulled her hand away. "And what if I don't want to go?"

Cora blinked back tears. To Mary's question she merely said, "Please, Mary. For me."

Mary couldn't stand to see the worry in her mother's eyes. She looked down and swallowed hard, nodding. "Alright, Mama. I'll telephone and ask if he can see me this afternoon."

Leaning forward awkwardly, Cora cupped Mary's cheek and kissed the other. "Thank you, darling."

Once Cora had settled back, Mary put her hand in her mother's again. They watched Sybbie pick flowers for a while, before Cora began to fidget. "Mama? Are you alright?"

Smiling softly, she said, "Yes. I think this little one is trying to stretch, though. I can feel her poking my ribs. Perhaps we can continue our walk?"

Mary smiled back at her, standing. "Do you want help?"

"No, dear," she said, putting her hands on either side of herself on the bench and working her way toward the edge. "Call Sybbie, will you? She's starting to go a bit farther than I'd like." She chuckled. "It's not as if I can catch her up quickly."

"Yes, Mama." Mary kissed her forehead and turned, calling out, "Sybbie, dear, don't pick those. They're weeds." She headed toward her niece.

Cora paused on the edge of the bench, watching Mary swoop her niece up into her arms and cuddle her close. She hoped her daughter would be alright.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Dr. Clarkson faced Mary across from his desk in his hospital office. He'd wondered how long it would be before she showed up here. It wasn't his place to say anything to her, and he knew simple grief could explain most of her obvious symptoms. But Isobel had shared a few other things with him – out of her concern for her daughter-in-law – and they had a theory about what might be ailing Mary. However, he couldn't be certain until she consented to an examination.

After asking her a series of questions, Dr. Clarkson nodded, thinking he and Isobel might be right. "I'll need to do a physical exam to be positive about this, Lady Mary."

"Yes, yes, of course, Dr. Clarkson."

"If you'll follow me, then." He stood and ushered her out his office and into a private examination room.

Mary felt like she was holding her breath the entire time once he told her what he thought it could be. How had she not thought of it before? She could only attribute it to her grief not allowing her to see things clearly.

But now that he'd finished the exam and smiled at her, she saw things clearer than she had in a long time.

* * *

Mary got back just after the dressing gong. She telephoned Isobel to be certain she was still joining them for dinner.

Anna already awaited Mary upstairs. "Is everything alright, my lady?" she asked, noting the flush in her cheeks.

"Yes, Anna. All is well." She smiled. "But we must hurry; I don't want to be late for dinner." She spotted the package on her dressing table. Mary had forgotten all about it.

After Anna had helped her change into her dinner dress – which was only slightly more elegant than her day dress, the rules of mourning forcing her to wear very few adornments – Mary sat at her dressing table while Anna worked on her hair. Pulling the small parcel to her, she opened it. On top of a black velvet box was a note:

_Dear Lady Mary,_

_We at this establishment wish to send to you our sincere condolences upon your loss. In fact, we believe that this gift was forgotten in the aftermath of this tragedy. Mr. Matthew Crawley had this made for you, and we wanted to make sure you received it. Please do excuse our tardiness in delivering it, and, again, accept our deepest condolences._

_Sincere regards,  
__Greenslade Jewelers  
__Ripon_

Mary blinked back tears and put the note aside. She knew this must be the surprise that Matthew had been on his way to pick up when – when _it_ happened. Carefully, she extracted the black velvet box from the brown paper wrappings. Snapping the lid open, she gasped, bringing Anna's attention to her.

"What is it, Lady Mary?" Anna looked down into the box and nearly gasped herself.

"It's Matthew's last gift to me." She put a timid finger on one of the emeralds in the necklace. "The shop only now got to delivering it." She swallowed, unable to say why they'd had to end up delivering it after all.

"They're gorgeous, my lady." She went back to dressing her hair, where she was almost finished.

"Anna. I want to wear them. Tonight."

Anna's eyes flew up to meet Mary's in the mirror. "Lady Mary, I certainly understand, but –"

She held a hand up to cut her off. Normally Mary would concede Anna's – perfectly legitimate – reservations. She was a widow, after all, and convention, not to mention her granny, would frown on her wearing anything other than black. But, looking down at the emerald and diamond necklace and earrings, tears in her eyes, she couldn't care about convention. She would wear Matthew's gift tonight – and any other time she wanted.

Mary was the last to join the others in the drawing room before dinner. She waited until all eyes fastened upon her. Violet's jaw dropped.

"What are you thinking, Mary? Why would you wear those?"

"Well, Granny, if you let me, I'll tell you. That, and something else." Mary exuded an air of supreme calm as she flicked her eyes to the – again present – Dr. Clarkson and strode to where she could better address the entire room.

Everyone looked at Mary expectantly, wondering at her serene demeanor and staring at the jewels that winked brightly at them in the soft lighting of the drawing room.

"I am wearing this necklace and these earrings because they arrived for me today." She turned her eyes to Isobel. "From Matthew. He had them made for me before he died."

Isobel held a hand over her mouth, her eyes glittering with tears. Dr. Clarkson, who stood next to her, surreptitiously put a hand on her elbow.

Mary continued. "I know I'm supposed to be wearing unrelieved black. I am, after all, a widow in mourning, and I _am_ mourning." She gazed around at her family, continuing. "But I found it appropriate to wear this gift of Matthew's tonight as I tell you something else." Her eyes came to rest on her mother's. "Yes, I am a widow, in mourning. But I'm also going to be a mother."

A cry of astonishment and joy went up in the room. Mary and her mother exchanged a warm smile as the others came forward to embrace the newest expectant mother.

* * *

Not long after dinner, both Mary and Cora went upstairs together, both pleading fatigue. It had been the first truly joyous news in a over a month, and the family had given themselves up to it, seeing that Mary was in the mood to celebrate new life, rather than to grieve for what was gone.

The pair linked arms, making their way slowly to Cora's bedroom.

"Mama, I feel a little guilty."

Cora squeezed Mary's arm gently. "Oh, darling, why would you feel guilty?"

"For being happy when I should be sad." She looked at her mother as she opened the door for her.

"Come here, Mary." Cora went into the room and sat in a chair, patting the one beside it. Once Mary had settled next to her, Cora took her hand and said, "I don't think it is wrong of you to be happy about this. We all are happy for you. It's a wonderful thing. We know you miss Matthew; we know you're still sad. But wouldn't he want you to enjoy this blessing? To be glad that part of him – even apart from what will always be in your heart – lives right here?" She reached over and touched Mary's stomach gently.

Mary nodded and smiled down at her mother's hand. Then she looked up, tears wetting her lashes. "Mama, I'm – I'm afraid." She didn't like admitting when she was afraid. But she felt if she could draw strength from anyone – if anyone would understand – it would be her mother.

"What frightens you, my darling?" Cora asked in a whisper.

"I don't know how I can do this alone."

Cora caressed her daughter's cheek, wiping her tears with her thumb. "You won't be. We'll be with you – and Isobel – the whole time. Just like we've been here for Tom and Sybbie. We're your family."

Mary seized her mother's hand in hers and kissed it. "Oh, Mama. Thank you. You can't know how much that means to me." She thought of the resentment and jealousy she'd had toward her mother since learning of her pregnancy, and she wanted nothing more than to prostrate herself at her mother's feet and ask forgiveness. But Cora didn't know anything about any of it, and so Mary simply kissed her mother's hand again and held it tightly between her own. "I'll be here for you too, Mama."

"I know you will, Mary." Cora gazed at her daughter tenderly.

At a soft knock at the door, Cora called, "Come in."

Robert entered the room, taking in the scene of his wife and daughter sitting side by side, clasping hands, their faces tear-streaked. "Is anything wrong?" Closing the door behind him, he approached the two women cautiously.

They both smiled at him. Mary said, "No, Papa. Everything is fine." She glanced over at her mother. "Or it will be. Eventually." Standing, she leaned down to kiss her mother's cheek, then released her hand. "I am feeling very tired, though, so I'll go to bed now."

"Goodnight, Mary. And don't forget what I said to you." Cora nodded at her daughter.

"No, Mama. I won't." Mary turned to her father. "Goodnight, Papa."

Robert pulled his eldest into a tight embrace, "Yes, you'll be alright, my dear. I love you so much, my Mary." He exchanged a glance with his wife over Mary's shoulder, grateful to see that Cora still had a smile gracing her features. He released Mary with a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight. Sleep well."

They watched Mary depart, then turned and looked at one another. "_Is_ she alright, Cora?" Robert asked.

Cora nodded again, running her hands over her stomach. "Like she said, my love – she will be. And until she is, she knows we are right here to hold her hand if she needs us to."

"I'm glad." He put a hand on either arm of the chair and leaned down, placing his lips on hers tenderly. "I'll ring for Perkins, shall I? And I'll be back in just a little while." He walked over and pulled the bell cord at her gesture of assent, then went into his dressing room.

When Hazel came upstairs, she flourished the green silk scarf at her mistress, grinning. "We heard the good news, downstairs, my lady. Might I be so bold as to congratulate you?"

Cora laughed. "Yes, you might. Thank you, Hazel. And thank you for finding the scarf for me."

"It's my pleasure, your ladyship. Now, what are your plans for this scarf?" Hazel asked as she helped Cora out of the chair in which she sat and onto her dressing table chair. She blushed, realizing she might have overstepped her bounds a bit with her question.

Lifting eyes full of mirth to her lady's maid's reflection in the mirror, Cora began removing her jewelry as Hazel took down her hair. "I think I'll keep that to myself," she said mischievously, her own cheeks becoming flushed. "But – leave my hair down, will you?" She lowered her lashes and grinned.

Dismissing Hazel after she'd helped her into her night dress – and just her night dress, Cora telling her that her undergarments were chafing her and she'd rather do without (at which Hazel's eyebrows raised considerably, but she said nothing) – Cora made a few last preparations of her own, then waited.

When Robert opened the door between the two rooms, he stopped short, inhaling sharply at the sight that met his eyes. "Even better than I imagined," he said under his breath, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Cora reclined upon the chaise longue, her hair loose around her shoulders. She'd wrapped the green scarf about her in a manner familiar to Robert, knotted below her right shoulder. The silk that once barely met at her side and reached almost mid-thigh now only just touched the top of her legs over her baby bump, and his eyes were treated to a beautiful glimpse of a breast and a view of all of her right hip.

He bounded across the room to her, unable to wait one moment longer to take her in his arms and caress her, to graze his fingers over her creamy, smooth skin. He kissed her fervently as he knelt by the chaise, a worshiper at the couch of his goddess.

Threading his fingers through her hair, loving that she knew how much he appreciated when she left it loose for him, he gazed at her for a few moments, basking in the light of her smile. "You are more beautiful to me today than you were then, the first night you wore this for me. And I still think there is no finer garment in your wardrobe, my darling."

Placing a hand on either side of his face, Cora caressed his cheeks tenderly. "And you, my love, are more handsome every day." She reached up one hand to brush his hair back at his temple. "Something about the silver in your hair drives me to distraction."

"Does it?" he asked, genuinely curious. "I just thought I was beginning to look old."

"No, darling. Not at all. Handsome." Cora leaned up just a little to kiss the cleft in his chin. "I'm so glad you're all mine."

Robert smiled at her. "Yours and only yours, my love," he whispered, before covering her lips with his once more and tugging at the knot in the green scarf, letting it fall away.

* * *

A/N: The green scarf first made its appearance in my Valentine's Day Fic, "Open Your Eyes," in Chapter 3. It has since been a favorite among my readers - and with Robert.

Green: "youth, fertility, life, growth, healing, renewal, generosity, vigor, spring" – but also "misfortune, envy"


	10. Pink

Mid-May, 1922

"The baby should be along any day now, Lady Grantham." Dr. Clarkson drew the sheet up over Cora's belly before standing and walking toward her washroom.

"You said that last week." Cora's plaintive voice had an edge of irritation to it.

Dr. Clarkson shook his head a little as he washed his hands. When he came back out, he said, "I know you're getting increasingly uncomfortable, your ladyship, but the baby _will_ arrive soon."

She smoothed her hands over her baby bump, looking down at it. "I just can't wait to meet her," she said softly.

Smiling, Dr. Clarkson shut his medical bag. "Yes, well, like I said, it'll be any day now. In the meantime try to keep yourself as comfortable as possible and rest."

"Thank you, doctor." She glanced up at him. "Dr. Clarkson, everything _is_ alright, isn't it?" Cora wanted so much to have her baby, but she was willing to admit that she was nervous – for many reasons.

He looked at her with understanding and nodded. "You are healthy, and your baby is healthy, Lady Grantham. I'll be back in a couple of days to check on you – if you haven't telephoned me first." Smiling again, Dr. Clarkson left her room.

A few moments later, there was a knock at her door. "Cora?" Robert called.

"Come in, darling." She was struggling to sit up.

Robert rushed to her side. "Sweetheart, let me help." He grasped her under the arms and aided her into a sitting position, then got a firm cushion from the chaise to put behind her back.

Cora sighed heavily in frustration. "Dr. Clarkson says any day now. But he said that last week, and I don't think I can expand much more."

Robert took her hand tentatively. He'd gotten used to her querulousness lately. She was uncomfortable and easily irritated. Her back hurt her and her feet were swollen. She slept a great deal, but she still felt tired. Despite this, Robert found her beautiful and radiant and did everything he could think of to make her feel better. "Darling, would you like some tea?"

"No." She shook her head and leaned back, closing her eyes.

Keeping his own sigh to himself, Robert attempted to distract her. "Rosamund will be here tomorrow. Perhaps she can divert you, Cora." His voice held a note of sadness that he couldn't seem to help her as much as he wanted.

Cora turned her eyes to his and squeezed his hand. "Robert, I'm sorry. I know I've been nearly impossible these past couple of weeks. And you've been so wonderful. Really, my love. Even when I don't seem grateful, I am." She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it tenderly.

Smiling at her, Robert caressed her cheek with his other hand. "My dear, you can be as impossible as you like. You're carrying our baby and keeping her safe. My only job right now is to keep _you_ safe and as comfortable and happy as I possibly can. And if you need to be impossible, then you go ahead and do so." He leaned up and kissed her forehead. Her sudden tears took him by surprise. He pressed his head to hers in concern. "Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Her chuckle surprised him further. "Nothing, Robert. Nothing at all."

When he pulled back, he saw that she was smiling through her tears, her cheeks pink and shining. He couldn't help but smile back, wiping her face gently with his handkerchief. "I'm happy to hear that. Happier than you can know."

* * *

Rosamund swept into the upstairs sitting room where Cora awaited her the next day. "Darling!" she said, bending down to where her sister-in-law reclined on the settee to take her hands and kiss her cheeks. "You look marvelous – positively bursting with life."

Cora laughed as Rosamund held her arms out to look at her burgeoning belly. "Yes, well, it might be nice if I could actually 'burst.' So to speak. I want to hold this little girl in my arms."

Letting go of her hands, Rosamund sat on a chair facing Cora. "Is that wise? Calling the baby a girl when you don't know?"

Resting her arms on her bump, she smiled. "Well, we didn't want to say 'it,' and, honestly, Rosamund, I'm more likely to have a girl than a boy."

"Really?" Rosamund reached over and poured herself a cup of tea from the trolley that had been set up for the two to have a private chat together. "If I were wagering, I'd say the odds were more in favor of a boy. I'd put my money on a son, in fact."

Cora watched her take a few sips of tea and pick up a sandwich. "You would?"

Rosamund nodded, eating daintily. "Yes, I would." She raised her eyes from her tea cup. "What will you name the baby? You've picked names, yes?"

Smiling, Cora answered, "'Amelia' for a girl, and 'Theodore' for a boy."

Chuckling, Rosamund selected a tea cake. "I like those, but I'm not so sure Mama will."

"And why not?" Cora looked worried.

"Oh, they're not family names."

"Neither are any of the other names we chose."

Rosamund continued to chuckle. "I'm sure she'd expect you to name a son after Robert. Or Papa."

"No, I don't think Robert wants his son named after himself. He never said anything about that. He came up with 'Amelia' and I suggested 'Theodore.' But we both agreed to both names." She looked down at her stomach with a little smile.

"Well, I'm amazed she hasn't said anything yet about the names, if you've told her - ?" Cora nodded to indicate that they had. "Yes, I'm astounded then."

Cora chortled. "I think she's finally just happy about the baby, period."

"I'm glad then." Rosamund had another sip of tea and then placed the cup carefully in its saucer. "There is a way I've heard of – to find out whether you're having a boy or girl."

"You have?" Cora fixed her eyes on her sister-in-law's face with curiosity.

Nodding, Rosamund stared back at Cora. "It's just an old wives' tale, but it might be fun." Her face took on a mischievous aspect.

"Yes?" Cora prompted.

"Well, you take a ring and put it on a string and hold it over your stomach and the way the ring moves is supposed to indicate male or female." She put her cup and saucer down on the tea trolley.

"Rosamund, I really don't think we should. Robert wouldn't like it." She shook her head.

"What's the harm? It's just a bit of fun. I'm curious." She shrugged her shoulders. "You don't have to if you're uncomfortable."

"Well… maybe…." Cora blushed a little.

Rosamund knew she had her. She grinned and looked at Cora's hands. "Where are your rings, sister dear?"

Cora laughed. "I haven't been able to wear them for a couple of months. My hands are swollen." She reached under the neckline of her dress and pulled out her wedding rings tied to a pink ribbon. "I simply wear them around my neck."

"Oh, then we're already all set!" Rosamund's face was gleeful.

Shaking her head, Cora lifted the ribbon over her head. "So, how does this work?"

"Just hold it over your stomach and we'll see which way the rings swing."

Cora took a deep breath. "I still don't know." She held the rings tightly in her hand.

"Darling, truly, what's the harm? It's an old wives' tale. It may be wrong. I'm merely interested." Rosamund smiled at her warmly.

"Alright." Cora held the rings over her belly by the ribbon, watching intently to see what might happen.

Rosamund observed the rings closely as well. As they swung around in a circle, she put her hand to her mouth.

Boy.

Suddenly, before Rosamund could say anything, the door opened, and Cora dropped the rings in astonishment.

"And how are you two doing in here?" Robert asked, crossing to his wife first and kissing her forehead before moving to Rosamund and greeting her as well.

"Just fine, darling," Cora answered, feeling around the cushions of the settee for her rings, her heart sinking when she realized that she couldn't seem to locate them.

"Yes, we were just discussing your choices of baby names," Rosamund said smoothly.

Robert grinned at them both. "Good." He turned to his sister. "Rosamund, Sybbie requests your presence before she goes to bed. I think she's named one of her dolls after you." He chuckled heartily. "Will you come see her?"

"Of course I will, brother dear." Rosamund rose and touched Cora's shoulder as she followed Robert out of the room.

"Oh dear, oh dear," Cora said under her breath after the door closed behind them. _I can't have lost my wedding rings_, she thought. Feeling a surge of energy – and worry – she got up and began searching between the cushions of the settee, lifting every pillow and wondering where they could have got to. She stood and ran her hands over her dress, then took a deep breath. They might have fallen under the settee. She wondered if she could get back up again on her own if she knelt down to look. She'd have to take the chance.

It wasn't long after the dressing gong sounded that Robert went looking for his wife. Not finding her in her bedroom, he wandered back to the sitting room, thinking she might have fallen asleep. He was not prepared to see her on her knees, her head nearly under the settee, her behind up in the air. Robert blinked several times, his hand still upon the door knob. He felt a familiar stirring below his waistband and had to slip a finger between his collar and neck, all of a sudden feeling quite warm.

For several weeks Cora had been either too uncomfortable or tired for their usual activities. Robert thought he'd borne it fairly well, considering how attractive – truly utterly beautiful – he still found her. Of course, some nights he'd awoken to the sound of her lips sighing his name, her hips pushing back against him as she had one of _those_ dreams. He'd had to remove himself to the washroom, praying that she wouldn't wake and catch him again, knowing she'd feel as if she were failing him somehow.

Now he felt as if his eyes might be glazed over, so he tore them away from her and cleared his throat loudly.

Cora froze. "Robert?" she ventured, her head still beneath the settee.

"Yes." He remained where he was, trying to keep his breath even as he thought – things. "Might I ask what you're doing?"

Pulling her head out from under the settee, she looked up at him. "I thought I lost something," she said simply.

"Yes? What?"

"Don't worry about it, darling. It's not important." Her heart hurt a bit to even say this. They would be found eventually. They had to be. She held her hand out to him. "Might you help me up?"

Robert let go of the door knob finally and walked over to her. "Of course." He extended his hands to her and heaved her up once she'd grasped them. Then, certain thoughts still fresh in his head – he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately on the mouth.

Cora looked at him wide-eyed when he finally drew back from her. "My goodness. Where did that come from?"

"Never mind, sweetheart," he said in a low voice, smiling. "Come along, I'm sure Perkins is waiting for you."

Grinning, Cora followed behind her husband, her hand tightly clasped in his.

* * *

The next day found Cora uncomfortable again – and slightly desperate. She'd had Rosamund help her downstairs, then she ensconced herself in the foyer, telling Carson to let no one disturb her. She asked the operator for a number in Harley Street.

"Dr. Ryder here."

"Oh, Dr. Ryder, how relieved I am that you're there." Cora sighed deeply.

"Is this Lady Grantham?"

"Yes, doctor, it is. I had a question."

"What might be your question, your ladyship?"

"Well, I am expecting any day now, and I was wondering…" Cora paused, not sure if she should ask the question she needed to ask. "I was wondering if there was any way to bring on labor?"

Dr. Ryder almost chuckled. It was a common question in his line of work. "Well, you could walk, Lady Grantham."

"No, no. I walk every day. Nothing." She sighed again.

"Well, if that doesn't work there is –" Dr. Ryder cleared his throat, for once a bit embarrassed to be saying such things to a countess – "there is, er, nipple stimulation."

Cora turned bright pink, wondering if she'd heard right. "What?"

"Um, nipple stimulation, Lady Grantham." His voice was barely audible, and he blushed himself.

Eyes wide now, Cora took a deep breath, unable to think such things at the moment. "Anything else?"

"There's also intimacy." He coughed again, hoping she'd know what he meant.

"Oh?" she asked. "Ohhhh…." she said as she realized to what he was referring, her cheeks still very pink.

"Yes. Well, achieving, well, er – um – it can bring on labor."

"Ah. Thank you, Dr. Ryder, for telling me. I appreciate your time." Cora stifled a giggle. It wasn't as if she hadn't wanted her husband over the past few weeks – just that she'd been so utterly tired.

"You're welcome, your ladyship. I wish you the greatest of luck on your delivery – whenever that may be. I hope soon." Dr. Ryder's lips twisted with suppressed mirth.

"Thank you again. Goodbye." Cora rung off, her hand over her mouth, her eyes bright.

She joined Rosamund in the drawing room.

"Everything go well?" Rosamund asked.

"Yes, I think so," Cora said. "Shall we go for a walk outside? It's very fine, and I'm feeling energetic today."

"Mary should be down any moment. I think Edith is busy, and I know the men are working on estate business. But the three of us can have a leisurely stroll perhaps? I don't want you to get overly tired, Cora." Rosamund stood and took Cora's arm.

"You sound like Robert, Rosamund." Cora patted her hand. "But, honestly, I'm feeling very well." She looked over at Mary when she entered the room. "Darling, would you like a walk? I haven't been outside in several days." She smiled warmly at her daughter.

Mary kissed her mother and aunt in turn, smoothing her hands over her own small bump that had just begun to show. "Are you sure, Mama? Won't you get too tired?"

Cora rolled her eyes and laughed. "Honestly, you two are worse than having a mother around."

"Well, if you're alright, Cora," Rosamund said, tightening her grip on her sister's arm. "But if it gets to be too much for you, let us know and we'll bring you straight back."

"Alright, alright – I will," Cora continued to laugh lightly, taking Mary's hand. "But I believe a bit of fresh air will do all of us some good."

After a nice walk, a lovely luncheon, and a long nap, Cora found herself once again in their upstairs sitting room with Rosamund across from her. She rubbed her back, sighing. "I'm ready for this baby to come," Cora told her. "I asked Dr. Ryder what could bring on labor…" She lowered her eyes and blushed.

Rosamund began to chuckle. She knew from various friends what some of the methods were. "How long has it been?" she asked without any sort of embarrassment or awkwardness.

"Rosamund!" Cora exclaimed, her eyes flying up to hers, shocked. "How can you ask such things?"

She shrugged. "Such things don't bother me. I have a feeling it's been a while, though – has it?"

Cora continued to stare at her in open-mouthed astonishment.

Rosamund shook her head. "Never mind. I actually am happy you are still pregnant… since I had a gift made for you." Her face filled with mirth.

"A gift?" Cora asked, curious now. "I'd rather find my wedding rings, Rosamund. I can't seem to locate them after yesterday…."

Waving a hand absently, Rosamund rolled her eyes. "They'll show up sometime, Cora. They're here somewhere. Don't worry about that." She stood and retrieved a wrapped box from another chair and passed it to her sister-in-law. "I think this will be a good time to use it." She winked before sitting again.

Cora untied the bow and removed the lid. Parting the tissue paper, she couldn't stifle a sharp intake of breath. "Rosamund, it's exquisite." She lifted the garment from the box. It was a very fine, rose-pink silk night dress in the latest style. Only Rosamund had had it made to go over her baby bump. Cora held it up to herself. It was short, with wide, lace straps and tiny ribbon rosettes on the hem and at the bodice. Cora thought she might cry with gratitude. "Thank you, sister dear. It's been a while since I had something so beautiful to wear –" She almost added "for my husband," but blushed instead, looking down.

"Oh, Cora, it's just a trifling thing. But I'm happy you like it." Rosamund beamed.

Meeting her sister-in-law's eyes, her face still rosy, Cora smiled. "I do. I think someone else will as well." She put the lovely confection back into the box, grinning widely, thinking of how he would love seeing her in such a pretty garment – not even thinking of labor anymore, simply of pleasing her husband. It truly had been too long, and she was feeling so very full of energy the past day or so….

Rosamund watched Cora closely, a Cheshire cat smile upon her own face. She liked being able to make her friend happy. She also had a feeling the baby would be along sooner rather than later.

Both women started when the door burst open. "Gan-mama!" Sybbie squawked, her chubby little legs carrying her to the settee at a run.

Tom appeared around the door. "I apologize, Cora, Aunt Rosamund, if we've interrupted."

Chuckling, Rosamund answered, "It's alright, Tom. We were just chatting." She still found it amusing that he called her "Aunt Rosamund." However, as that was what the girls called her, she'd decided to take it as a compliment.

Cora wrapped an arm around her granddaughter, which was about all she could do because of the way she reclined upon the settee. Sybbie appeared content by this and stood encircled in her grandmother's half embrace, her hands upon Cora's arm, her flushed face gazing all around the room in fascination. Sybbie wasn't often allowed in the upstairs sitting room – nor did the adults use it all that much; they were more likely to be in the drawing room or library downstairs. However, for the past several weeks, the stairs tended to tire Cora, so she generally stayed away from them except when it was time to go down to dinner or if she wanted a walk outside.

Rosamund invited Tom to join them, and he sat on the chair beside Rosamund's. As they conversed – she telling him in a quiet voice about some presents she'd brought for Sybbie from London but wanted to wait until the baby was born to give her, so she'd know she wasn't forgotten – Rosamund kept one eye on Cora.

Although her eyes were closed, Rosamund knew Cora wasn't asleep, because of the grin playing at the corners of her mouth. One hand gently stroked her belly and her other arm still clasped Sybbie, the little girl's head resting peacefully on her grandmother's upper arm.

A few moments later Cora's eyes snapped open as Sybbie gave a hop. "Gan-mama! Shiny!" She pointed to a spot under Rosamund's chair.

Cora looked to where Sybbie pointed. "My rings!" she exclaimed. "Rosamund, my rings are under your chair!" She laughed with relief, squeezing her granddaughter a little.

Rosamund bent down a bit and glanced under the chair. "So they are! What a sharp eye you have there, Sybbie dear." She reached down and picked the rings up by their pink ribbon, then stood and walked over to Cora, dropping the rings into her hand with a conspiratorial smile.

Tom's brows drew together. "How did your rings end up there, Cora?"

Sitting back down beside him, Rosamund patted his hand. "Never you mind, young man. They are safe and sound where they belong again, and that's all that matters."

Chuckling, Tom pointed at Sybbie, "Are you sure about that, Aunt Rosamund?"

Sybbie had somehow convinced Cora to slip the pink ribbon over her own head so she could wear the rings. Cora lifted her eyes to Tom. "Oh, it's just for a little while. She'll keep them safe. Won't you, little darling?" She ran a hand over her granddaughter's hair.

Her head bobbing up and down, Sybbie held the rings tightly. "Sybbie keep them safe, Gan-mama."

Cora smiled at Rosamund and Tom. "See?"

Rosamund watched as Sybbie turned and put her other hand on Cora's stomach. "'Melia awake?" she asked her grandmother.

"I don't think so, Sybbie. She doesn't have a lot of room to move either." Cora sighed. "She'll be coming along soon, I hope," she said, half to Sybbie and half to herself.

Sybbie nodded again. "'Melia nap time."

"Cora, are you tired? Perhaps we should leave you to rest before dinner." Rosamund had heard the weariness in her sister-in-law's voice.

Cora looked over at her and Tom. "No, no. I'm fine. Honestly, I feel quite energetic – albeit a bit weighed down here." She chuckled. "I haven't had this much energy in weeks."

Rosamund raised her eyebrows, then flicked her eyes to the box that contained the pink night dress before fixing them on Cora again. Maybe she wasn't fatigued after all – simply tired of being pregnant. _Yes_, she thought, suppressing a giggle as she glanced at the box once more. _There will be a bit of romance tonight, I believe_.

* * *

Excusing herself not too long after the men had joined the women that evening, Cora made her way carefully toward the door. She and Rosamund shared a look just before she got up that made Cora grin and turn bright pink.

Robert followed her out of the room and halfway to the staircase, then touched her on the arm. "Cora, is everything alright?"

She smiled at him. "Yes, darling. Everything's just fine."

He watched as her smile widened slowly. He could have sworn that not only was there a glint of mischief in his wife's eyes, but that when she finally turned to go she was endeavoring to sashay to the staircase. Robert's brows lifted.

Once she got to the top of the stairs, Cora looked down to see him still standing there. "Robert, go back to everyone now, my dear. I know you'll be up in a little while." She chuckled and waved a hand at him before walking on to her room.

Robert blinked a few times and shook himself, then went back into the drawing room with the others. He noticed that Rosamund kept glancing at him and smirking. She'd pulled Mary into a corner of the room with her, and their heads were bent together. He smiled when he saw his daughter run her hand over her own visible baby bump. Robert would have loved if his new grandchild did not have to be carried by a mother in mourning. But he knew nothing could be done about that. They could only be there for Mary and her baby. And be there they would.

After conversing for a little while with everyone in the room, Robert decided it was time to check on his wife. He bid his family goodnight and went upstairs.

At his knock, Cora bid him enter. When she saw it was him, she said nothing, merely stood up from the chaise and tugged at her dressing gown tie, letting the garment fall from her shoulders and onto the floor.

Robert gaped at his wife who stood before him in the rose-pink silk night dress with its lace and rosettes and ribbons. Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, and she wore a bright smile, her cheeks pink and her eyes lit up like blue stars.

"Cora?" He barely got her name out as his eyes ran up and down her body, lingering over the porcelain of her shoulders and arms and the loveliness of her lower limbs, visible to him below the hem of the night dress, which came to a few inches above her knee.

"Yes, my darling?" she asked, taking a few steps toward him, smoothing the pink silk over her stomach.

As she approached him, he could feel himself grow warmer, his heart already racing. He cleared his throat. "Are you – why are you – what are you -?" His eyes were drawn now to the bodice of the night dress. A ribbon marked an empire waistline just above her bump – and just below where it showed off her enlarged breasts to excellent advantage.

Cora laughed lightly, as he was so obviously flustered. "I do believe I've caught you off guard, haven't I, darling?" She stopped right in front of him, her eyes flitting down to where his trousers already sported a bulge. Her brows lifted. "Goodness. I thought I was going to have to convince you."

"Convince me?" He stayed still, his eyes dark and his breathing heavy.

"Yes, to make love to me," she whispered, reaching up to pull on the ends of his tie, loosening it and then unbuttoning and pushing the jacket off his shoulders. "You will, won't you?"

Robert swallowed hard. He wanted nothing more than to do just that, but he was concerned. "Aren't you tired? Won't you be uncomfortable? Cora – are you sure?" He looked deeply into her eyes.

He saw no trace of doubt. Nor did she seem a bit tired.

Nodding, Cora eased him out of his waistcoat and tossed it aside. "I'm sure, darling. It's been too long." She hooked her fingers under his braces on either side of his chest and pulled him down gently toward her, pressing her lips to his.

"Oh, God," he breathed against them, closing his eyes and placing his hands on either side of her face. Robert kissed her passionately, earnestly, moving his hands down her shoulders and arms, around to her bottom. Cora answered his squeeze with a groan of pleasure, her fingers working quickly to unbutton his shirt.

Soon, his hands were everywhere as he kept kissing her deeper and more fervently. Robert couldn't seem to touch her enough, caress her enough, kiss her enough. Cora kept disrobing him as best she could while he continued his attentions, her own hands fondling his skin as she bared it and through his clothes where she hadn't yet managed to.

Finally, all his clothing lay in a pile on the floor and all that was between them was her pink night dress. Cora guided him slowly to the bed, walking carefully backward as they kissed. Once she felt her legs hit the mattress, she pulled away gently, giving him a tender smile and reaching up to cup his face in her hands.

Robert let his eyes travel up and down her silk-clad body one more time. "You're radiant," he whispered when his eyes met hers again. "And beautiful, and I love you." He covered her mouth with his, resting his hands on her hips for just a moment before beginning to hitch up the night dress. "Lift your arms, sweetheart." When she did, he lifted the night dress over her head and flung it behind him. "Now you're even more radiant and beautiful." Robert smiled at her, kissing her forehead and then each of her cheeks.

Cora sighed happily. "Darling, I love you too." Then she touched his chin tenderly. "I need you, Robert," she whispered, sitting on the bed now.

"I need you too," he said huskily, kissing her mouth one more time before asking, "Do you need a pillow for your back or your hips?" He'd already retrieved one for her head, handing it to her.

She lay back upon the bed, putting the pillow under her head. "No, darling – not unless it helps you."

Robert eyed where she lay. "I think I'll be alright. I can adjust if need be. I simply want you to be comfortable." He leaned down to stroke her face.

"I'm fine," she said reassuringly. She took his hand and pressed it to her breast, closing her eyes. "Please, Robert, soon."

His eyes growing darker with his desire, he kneaded her breast for a moment, causing a deep sigh of pleasure to escape her lips. He then drew his hand away to lift her legs and wrap them around his waist, his thighs up against the bed as he stood before her. Slipping his hands under her bottom, which rested just at the edge of the mattress, he waited a few seconds while she nodded at him. Then, with a great moan of satisfaction, he pushed into her, even more satisfied to hear her own noise of delight and feel her legs tighten around his middle.

As he moved against her, he locked eyes with her, since he could not kiss her as he would have liked. She grasped the blankets and panted, breathing his name over and over as he thrust into her, and he answered her with his own guttural sounds of bliss.

Robert kneaded her bottom with one hand, extricated the other to fondle her just above his now frenzied motion. He bit his lip and finally had to close his eyes, holding on as best he could, wanting to be certain she had her release first. She started to writhe with his attentions and his increasing tempo, and he opened his eyes and whispered, "Yes, my love. Yes, yes, yes…."

Then he saw her arch her back up and felt her clench her thighs around him. The feeling of her was amazing and intense, sending him completely over the edge, and only a moment later he was leaning heavily against the bed, smiling down at her, endeavoring to catch his breath. He ran a lazy hand over her thigh, caressing it.

Cora grinned back up at him. "Yes, it had been far too long since we did that."

Robert chuckled and raised a hand to brush her hair out of her face, his stomach touching hers. Then he bent down and pressed a tender kiss to her baby bump.

"Darling?" she whispered.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He looked up at her from where he still had his head close to her belly.

"Might you help me up? I need to…" she indicated the washroom with a nod.

"Of course, my dear." He grasped her hands in his and hoisted her into a sitting position, then aided her to stand. "Are you alright?"

Cora leaned up and kissed his cheek, smiling. "Yes." She began waddling to the washroom, and Robert went over to pick up her dressing gown off the floor.

He dropped it again at her cry of "Robert!"

He darted over to the doorway of the washroom and beheld the astonished face of his wife. "What's wrong, Cora?"

Cora looked down, and his eyes followed hers to where clear fluid pooled around her feet. "Get dressed and telephone Dr. Clarkson," she said in a strong but calm voice, meeting his eyes. Then she smiled at him. "We're having a baby."

* * *

Pink: "compassion, beauty, romance, faithfulness, love, friendship, sensitivity"


	11. Orange

Robert stood at the open library windows in his dressing gown, his hands clasped tightly behind him, watching the dawn break on the horizon. Streaks of orange touched the gardens and trees, gilding them with light. He hoped the glory of the sunrise would prove a good omen.

Tom and Rosamund sat on the settee behind him, talking quietly, having given up trying to keep Robert calm. In fact, this was the most sedate they'd seen him all night. Ever since the house had been roused with the news that Cora was in labor, he'd been in the library, pacing or sitting down and then standing right back up again, picking up random things and putting them down, running his fingers through his hair so it now stood on end. Hazel appeared every half hour or so, as instructed, to let him know how things were going. Although her reports contained nothing of alarm, every time she entered the room, Robert's chest constricted painfully until she'd told him all was well. Rosamund attempted to give him Scotch, for his obvious nerves, but he refused. At this, her eyebrows had risen, and she gave Tom a look of both surprise and slight unease. Her brother had always believed in the power of a good Scotch as a balm for nearly everything.

To be honest, Robert couldn't forget what had happened with Sybil, even if Cora showed none of the same signs their daughter had; he couldn't forget the loss of their son, even if it hadn't been in childbirth. Although the threat of loss was slim, he knew, it was no less real to him. But he also knew that if anything seemed wrong that one of them – Mary, Edith, Hazel, Isobel, or Dr. Clarkson – would make sure he knew right away.

Staring out at the golden-orange clouds, Robert heaved a deep sigh and brought one of his hands around to rub it over his bristly chin. He was aware that labor could take much longer, but he was impatient – and every time his chest constricted in that manner, he knew it could easily turn into a panic attack.

The library door opened, and Robert's heart beat harder as he turned. But it wasn't Hazel this time; it was Edith. She approached her father with a broad smile, her hair a little disheveled and her tangerine dressing gown slightly askew. "Congratulations, Papa." She took his hands and squeezed them, smiling. "They're getting cleaned up to see you now."

Robert's entire aspect transformed, his face shining with the dawn light and with his own joy. "They're fine? Both of them?"

"Yes, they're doing wonderfully." Edith wrapped her arms around her father, embracing him.

"Thank God," he breathed against her temple as he returned her hug, his eyes alight. He felt the knot that had resided in his stomach all night long begin to loosen.

Once Edith had released him, Tom and Rosamund approached him with congratulations of their own. Robert couldn't keep from beaming at them all. Then, he departed the room at a sprint, taking the stairs two at a time, meeting Dr. Clarkson and Isobel at the top of them.

Seeking reassurance, he wrung the doctor's hand and asked him, "They're well? The baby is healthy? And my wife?"

Dr. Clarkson smiled at him. "They are the picture of health, Lord Grantham. Lady Grantham had a normal delivery, and she's doing very well. I'll of course come back later in the day to check on them both, but I was very pleased with how it all went."

Robert's smile widened and he kissed Isobel on the cheek. "Thank you, Isobel, for helping Dr. Clarkson with the delivery."

"You're welcome, Robert; it was my pleasure. Congratulations!" Isobel took his hand and pressed it warmly, grinning.

"Thank you, thank you both." Robert didn't notice the two holding hands – nor would he have cared at that moment. He hurried past them and almost literally ran into Mary just before he reached his wife's door.

"Papa, you're a father again." Mary's greeting held only a trace of sadness as she removed her hands from the small baby bump and reached up to hug and kiss him, her countenance glowing.

Robert's breath caught as he thought about this. "I am, Mary. Goodness, who knew I would be doing this again at my age?" He laughed and kissed his daughter's cheek.

"Well, it doesn't matter. You'll do marvelously."

As she stepped back, he noticed the shadows under her eyes. "Darling girl, you've been up all night. You should go now and get some sleep."

Mary smiled at him. "Not to worry. I napped between contractions. Besides, I'm too excited to go back to bed now. I will go downstairs and find the others, then have a nice long sleep later."

Robert pressed one last kiss to her forehead before they parted. He walked the few steps to his wife's door, startled when it opened to reveal a cheerful Hazel laden with soiled linens.

"Oh, Lord Grantham, how very happy I am to be here to see the arrival of your fourth child." Tears shone in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Robert grinned at her. "I am, too, Perkins." He leaned down and kissed her soundly on the cheek, unable to contain his happiness and gratitude at the moment. "Thank you so much for everything that I know you did for her ladyship, and for coming down to let me know what was going on. I have a feeling you would have done it even if I hadn't asked you to."

Hazel blinked a few times, momentarily dazed. Then she colored a trifle and smiled. "Of course I would have, my lord. I knew you would be anxious."

"I was. Very. But I hear I have nothing over which to be anxious."

Her smile growing softer, Hazel shook her head. "No, you don't, your lordship. And I've just finished cleaning everything up. They're waiting to see you."

Robert's grin widened, his heart beat picking up speed now. He stepped back to let the tiny woman pass him, then addressed her again. "Perkins, please let everyone downstairs know? And – I am grateful to you. I know having you there made it easier for her. It made it easier for me as well." He paused, then added, "Make sure you get some rest. I know you have seemingly boundless energy, Perkins, but even this must have taxed you."

Hazel laughed lightly. "Don't you worry, my lord. I'll be just fine. And it was an honor and a pleasure to help her ladyship. It always is." With another warm smile, she turned, making her way downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, Robert pushed open the door and peeked into the room, then stepped in, closing the door behind him. Cora raised her eyes from the bundle in her arms to him, her face radiant.

"Come and sit with us, Robert. Your son would like to meet you."

Robert froze, his blood rushing in his ears, unsure he'd heard her right. Thinking back over the last quarter of an hour or so, he recalled that no one had said whether the baby was a boy or girl – and he hadn't asked. He'd only wanted assurance that they were fine. It was the only important thing to him. He cleared his throat. "Did you say – did you say 'son'?"

Cora grinned from ear to ear. "I did, darling." Tears began falling down her face. "We have a son," she said in a near whisper, still endeavoring to believe it herself.

"We have a son?" he asked, incredulous.

"Theodore Robert Crawley – if you don't mind the middle name. We hadn't talked about that." She watched his face, then carefully extended her hand to him. "Robert, come here."

Looking up from where his eyes had ultimately rested on the floor, he took in her smile and tears, her tired yet happy visage, the bundle she held, and finally went over to them, taking her outstretched hand and sitting next to them on the bed. "Cora," he said, a lump forming in his throat as he looked upon his son for the first time, "he's beautiful."

Cora's eyes followed his to the baby in her arms. "I know. He's perfect. And completely healthy." Her heart swelled up with love for her son. Then she glanced up at her husband, and her heart swelled even more, to where she thought it would burst.

Just then, the baby opened his eyes, and Robert's breath caught. "He has your eyes, my love." He stared into their blue brightness, feeling a tear run down his own face.

Bending forward slightly, Cora kissed the glistening track the tear had made. "And your hair line." She chuckled.

Robert ran his other hand through his tumbled locks, laughing. "Yes, well, as long as his grows, we'll be fine."

"It will," she whispered. "Would you like to hold him?"

Beaming, Robert nodded. "I would. Very much." He took the baby in his arms as Cora passed him over. "Cora, I didn't think I could be quite this happy."

"I know, my darling." She smiled on them both, then yawned.

"Shouldn't you get some sleep, sweetheart?" He turned a concerned look on her as he paused in running a gentle finger over his son's face.

Cora shook her head. "He'll need to eat soon, I think. I'll wait until he's nursed and then gone to sleep before I do." She smiled tenderly at him before leaning her head upon his shoulder, fixing her eyes on the baby. "What a true gift our Theodore is, isn't he, my love?" she whispered.

Robert swallowed against the lump forming once more in his throat. "Yes. And he would have been if he were an Amelia." He turned and pressed a kiss to the top of Cora's head before resuming stroking their baby's face. "Our son," he said softly, still hardly daring to believe it. "Our son Theodore."

* * *

Theodore's cries woke Cora several hours later. She winced as she sat up in the bed, an involuntary groan of pain escaping her lips.

"Cora?" Robert stuck his head out of the washroom, shaving foam on part of his face.

Smiling at him wearily, Cora shook her head. "I'm alright, Robert. Just the normal soreness after giving birth. Would you mind checking to see if he's wet for me while I get up for a minute?"

"Do you need help?" He went back into the washroom to finish shaving quickly.

"No, I'll be alright," she called to him. She listened to him run water to rinse his face as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and prepared to stand.

Robert reemerged, patting his face dry with a towel. He walked over to her and kissed her tenderly on the lips while she was getting her bearings to stand. She put a hand on his cheek, grinning. "Very smooth."

Returning her grin, he took her hand and kissed it as well, then asked once more, "Are you sure you don't want help?"

She shook her head again. "I'm fine. I'll let you know if I change my mind." Her eyes moved to the bassinet as the baby's cries grew louder. "Please check him for me? Then I'll see if he's hungry."

Robert pressed another kiss to her hand and then went over to the bassinet, lifting the baby out and holding him against the front of his dressing gown. He watched as Cora stood and made her way slowly to the washroom, her hands grasping her bedside table and then the door. Her face was screwed up in pain. Robert wished he could take it away.

Since he couldn't, he did as his wife had bid him and checked the baby, finding that he did need to be changed. Robert chuckled a bit as he performed this operation, realizing that he'd never done this procedure with a son before – and that he was a tad rusty at it anyway. But he successfully got the diaper on the baby and wrapped him in his blanket once more, noting that his crying had stopped. Robert held him close to his face and kissed his cheeks, inhaling his baby scent.

Cora came out of the washroom with ginger steps, just in time to see this last part. She paused, watching them, smiling. Robert settled the baby in his arms again with a kiss on the forehead, then saw his wife standing there. He smiled at her. "Are you alright, darling?"

She nodded, then slowly – with less cringing – walked back to the bed, climbing in carefully and propping herself up against the pillows.

"Do you think he's hungry?" Robert asked. "He calmed down once I changed him."

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out. His cries had an effect." She began unbuttoning the bodice of her night dress, then held her arms out for Theodore once she was ready. Robert gave her the baby, then sat facing them on the edge of the bed. Cora held the baby close to her, happy when he latched on and began to nurse. She winced again.

"Is he hurting you?" Robert watched her face in some alarm.

Cora chuckled a little. "It always takes a bit of getting used to, and they're sore. But it's eased some now." She smiled tenderly at her husband. "That's right, you weren't facing me earlier, were you?"

Robert shook his head, his brow still creased with concern. "Do you need anything, sweetheart? I can ring down for some breakfast."

"I am actually hungry, now that you mention it." She watched him stand and walk over to ring the bell. "Robert, have you slept at all?"

"No – well, I couldn't. I sat here and watched you two sleep for a while." He grinned. "Then, once it was late enough, I went downstairs and telephoned Mama to tell her the good news."

Cora shifted the baby around so he could nurse on the other side, grateful for how easily he latched on, remembering how long it took for Edith to take to it, and how frustrated it made her. Then she looked up at Robert. "And what did she say?"

"Oh, she was pleased, Cora. Very pleased. She inquired about how you were feeling. She said she knew you'd be too tired tonight, but wondered if she might come to dinner tomorrow evening so she could celebrate with us and meet her newest grandchild." He thought he heard some sort of commotion out in the hallway, but didn't want to interrupt their conversation.

"Well, I'd like that very much, if I'm feeling up to it. I don't see why not."

"I also had a telegram sent to your mother. I told her she'd be welcome to visit, but I have a feeling she'll wait until the baby is older – and possibly after Mary has her baby." The noises in the hallway grew louder.

Cora chuckled. "That sounds about right. She'd want to wait until things are back to some semblance to normal, otherwise she might see very little of me." Her eyes left his and went to the doorway. "Robert, do you hear that?"

"I do. Perhaps I should see what's going on out there." He went to the door and opened it.

Just a little way down the hall, Sybbie and her nanny stood facing one another, the girl looking daggers at the woman who leaned down to her level. "You can't disturb them, Sybbie. Your grandmama is resting."

Sybbie stamped her foot. "I want to see 'Melia!"

Robert barely stopped himself from laughing aloud. For one thing, he thought it was the first time he'd heard Sybbie refer to herself in the first person. For another, either no one had told her the baby was a boy, or she hadn't understood what it meant when they had.

Making his face serious, Robert cleared his throat noisily. "What's this all about?" He stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.

"Gan-papa!" Sybbie shrieked. She ran up to him, dropping the things she carried in her arms and enthusiastically wrapping them around one of his legs instead.

"I do apologize, your lordship. I tried to keep her in her nursery –" The nanny looked frustrated and panicked.

Robert made a motion with his hands and smiled at her. "Never mind, Nanny. I'll take Sybbie for a while. Her ladyship is awake, and I'm sure she'd like to see her."

The nanny nodded and went back down the hallway just as Hazel showed up. "My lord? You rang?"

"Perkins, why aren't you resting?" He chuckled and scooped Sybbie up before she got the notion in her head to go looking for her grandmother and the baby without him.

"Oh, I did, Lord Grantham. Several hours." She grinned.

"Well, that's alright then. You've had more than I have." He thought a moment, having forgotten why he'd rung the bell. Then he shook his head with a slight laugh. "Yes, might you bring some breakfast up for both her ladyship and me?"

"Certainly, my lord. As soon as Mrs. Patmore can make it." She grinned and winked at Sybbie, then went to accomplish the task set her.

"Now, little darling, do you want to meet the baby?"

Sybbie nodded seriously.

Robert met her serious look. "You have to be very quiet, Sybbie. If you are too loud, I'll have to take you back to your nursery."

She nodded again. Then, as he was turning to bring her into the room, she tugged on his sleeve and whispered loudly, "Gan-papa, my babies!" She pointed to where a doll and a stuffed bear lay on the floor at his feet.

Chuckling, Robert bent down and picked them up, handing them to her. She hugged them up to her chest, grinning.

"Guess who I found having an altercation with her nanny in the middle of the hallway?" Robert asked rhetorically as he closed the door behind them.

"Me!" Sybbie exclaimed in her loudest whisper, her eyes watching her grandmother.

Theodore had finished nursing and Cora held him against her shoulder, rubbing his back gently. She smiled at her granddaughter and husband. "Someone just couldn't wait any longer to see her new playmate, could she?"

Sybbie shook her head. "I want to see 'Melia."

Cora laughed lightly, exchanging a look with Robert. "Will you explain, or shall I?" she asked.

"I will," Robert replied, smiling. "You have your hands full." He walked over to a chair and sat down in it, Sybbie on his lap. "Sybbie, dear, Grandmama had a little boy instead of a little girl. So there is no Amelia. The baby's name is Theodore."

Her confusion was evident. "No 'Melia?"

"No, no Amelia. But that is still the baby that Grandmama was carrying. The one you felt when you pressed your hand to her tummy. It's just that you have an uncle instead of an aunt. Uncle Theodore." He stroked her hair, watching her expression change.

"Gan-papa, can I have a 'Melia?"

Robert laughed a little, looking over her head to Cora, where she smiled at them and kept rubbing their son's back. "Perhaps Aunt Mary will have a little girl, but you'll have fun with Theodore too. Once he's old enough."

Sybbie scrunched up her face, apparently deep in thought. Then it cleared and she smiled and gave a small nod, as if having decided something. She held up the doll she'd had clutched to her. "This is 'Melia," she said. Then she held up the stuffed bear. "This is T-t-t-dore."

Cora spoke now. "Would it be easier for her to call him Teddy? Would you mind, Robert?"

Shrugging, Robert turned to Sybbie. "How about Teddy, little darling?"

She looked at him. "Teddy?" She pointed toward the baby with her bear.

"Yes. And –" he laughed, realizing something – "bears are called teddy's sometimes anyway. After that American president. Theodore Roosevelt."

Cora laughed too. "That's right. I'd forgotten that."

Robert kissed Sybbie's forehead as she asked, "I see Teddy now?"

"Well, I think you can, but you need to put those down." He placed her on the floor, then watched as she set the doll and bear on the chaise. He wanted to give Cora time to reposition the baby and get comfortable again, so he asked, "Where did you get those, Sybbie? I don't remember seeing either of them."

Sybbie tugged at his hand, knowing she couldn't climb onto the bed herself. "Ann-Roz-mund gave them."

He smiled, thinking that would be exactly something his sister would do. "And you look very pretty today. Is that a new dress?"

She paused in tugging at his hand to look down at her copper-colored dress. "Yes, Gan-papa. Ann-Roz-mund give it, too." She pulled at him more adamantly now. "Come on, Gan-papa," she pleaded in her loudest whisper.

Robert glanced at Cora, and, at her nod, brought Sybbie over to his side of the bed and put her down upon it, watching her crawl close to her grandmother and the infant. He sat down beside his granddaughter, facing the three of them so he could observe them more easily.

Sybbie peered between the folds of the blanket wrapped around the tiny face. "Hello, Teddy," she whispered.

Cora looked at Sybbie tenderly. "Might you give Grandmama a kiss, my darling?"

Sitting up on her knees, the girl reached up to kiss Cora's cheek, then wrapped her arms around her neck in a cautious embrace. Settling back down again, she asked, "Gan-mama, I hold Teddy?"

Robert and Cora exchanged a look over her head. Robert replied in a soothing voice, "Sybbie, I think he might be too heavy for you yet."

Sybbie turned a pathetic face on her grandfather. "But I want to hold him." Her voice had risen in volume.

"Little one, remember what I said to you about being too loud." Robert touched her cheek. "And you'll get to hold him soon enough."

Letting out a pronounced sigh, Sybbie nodded grudgingly and turned back to the baby. "Gan-mama, Teddy nap time?" She'd apparently observed his eyes drooping and now closing.

"Yes, I think so, Sybbie. And soon it will be my nap time too. After we eat breakfast." She glanced at Robert. "You did ask for breakfast, yes?"

As he opened his mouth to answer, a knock came at the door. He grinned. "Yes. That'll be it now, I would say." He got up and let Hazel and another maid, each carrying a tray laden with food, into the room. Then he walked around and gently took the sleeping infant from his mother, placing him into his bassinet with a kiss. He had Hazel settle Cora with a tray and took his own from the other maid. "Thank you, Perkins." Hazel smiled and nodded, closing the door behind them.

He got himself comfortable on the bed, Sybbie still between them. "Would you like some fruit, little one?" he inquired, glad to see his wife already eating with great appetite.

Sybbie looked at his tray, licking her lips. She nodded. "Bacon, too, Gan-papa?"

Robert laughed. "Didn't you eat breakfast, Sybbie?"

She took the strawberry he gave her with one hand and the half piece of bacon with the other. "I don't like oatmeal," she said simply as she bit into the bacon.

Cora glanced at her granddaughter and then her husband. "This is just the beginning," she said, chuckling.

"I know," Robert replied, winking at her.

They all ate a hearty breakfast, then, after Robert removed the trays and checked to see that Theodore still slept, they all lay back on the bed. The two adults were exhausted, and Sybbie didn't want to leave, so Robert had given her the doll and bear, and she played quietly with them while he and Cora fell asleep. Not long after, Sybbie clasped her toys to her orange-clad chest, turned on her side, and closed her eyes, drifting off as well.

* * *

The next evening Violet, Isobel, and Dr. Clarkson arrived at Downton for a celebratory dinner with the family. Cora, Robert, and Theodore were the last to join the others. Robert clasped the baby in his arms and walked slowly as Cora leaned against him. Tom came forward to help her to a chair while Robert went to sit by his mother.

"Mama, your grandson, Theodore Robert Crawley." Robert grinned at her. "Would you like to hold him?"

Violet waved a hand, but smiled at them. "No, no. You hold him, Robert." As she peered at the baby, he blinked his eyes open, a dense fringe of dark lashes surrounding his blue eyes. "He has a strong resemblance to Cora, doesn't he?" she remarked.

Robert chuckled. "Lucky for him." He shot a mirthful glance at his wife, who smiled back at him, shaking her head.

"We Crawleys are no slouches, brother dear," Rosamund interjected with a gentle laugh.

Cora added, "I agree with Rosamund." She continued to smile at her husband, a caressing lilt to her voice.

Violet hardly paid attention. She wasn't very much of a baby person, but she had to admit that her grandson had already pulled on her heartstrings. And he did even more so when she placed a tentative finger to his chin and he reached out to grasp it in his tiny fist.

Robert beamed at them both, then looked over at Cora, who watched Violet and Theodore with tears in her eyes. Then, disbelievingly, he saw his mother draw a handkerchief out of her pocket and touch it to her cheeks.

At this juncture Carson brought a trolley into the room with champagne and glasses for everyone. Robert looked confused. "I didn't ask for this, Carson."

Rolling her eyes, Violet cleared her throat. "No, Robert, I did." Not taking her finger away from Theodore, she accepted the glass Jimmy offered her with a nod. "I thought we could have a proper toast before dinner."

_Will wonders never cease?_ he thought. But he held his tongue. Once everyone had champagne glasses, Robert gazed around the room at all the happy faces. It was such a change from when they'd met a little more than six months before in the same place, champagne flutes in their hands. And he couldn't stop grinning.

"To Cora and Robert," Violet said, raising her glass. "Congratulations on your son. And to Theodore Crawley."

Everyone drank – Cora and Mary having only tiny sips of their champagne, exchanging glances while the others had much longer sips.

Robert leaned closer to his mother. "Thank you, Mama."

"Nonsense, Robert," she said somewhat brusquely. "There is nothing for which to thank me. I'm simply pleased that this one is here and that he and Cora are doing so well." Violet kept her eyes on the infant's face, her smile belying her tone.

"Alright, Mama," he said, his eyes meeting his wife's across the room. They shared a tender glance, each knowing the other was happy that the others appeared pleased at how things had turned out – knowing that the two of them were happy beyond measure.

* * *

The following weeks fell into their own pattern of feedings and bathings and naps, cuddles and frustration and tears, happiness and love and exhaustion. Cora and Robert deferred hiring a nurse until Theodore would be sleeping mostly through the night, so his care fell to them, with the help of their daughters, Tom, Hazel, and – in a pinch – Sybbie's nanny, who was kind enough to offer her services when needed.

With these first weeks, the couple were reminded of when they'd had the girls as babies. They'd forgotten just how difficult it was never to have any time alone together. Either the baby needed them, or they were simply too tired to do more than fall asleep in one another's arms – for which, remembering a span of over a month when Mary had slept between them when Edith was an infant, they did not make the mistake of being unappreciative. However, their lack of time alone put a strain upon them, a strain they endeavored to bear patiently, but nonetheless one that both felt keenly. As with the girls, they were grateful for their son, loved him dearly and treasured the moments spent with him in his all-too-fleeting babyhood. But, to be frank, they missed one another.

So it was with great anticipation that Cora met Robert at the dividing door of his dressing room the night after her six week post partum appointment with Dr. Clarkson, Theodore nearly asleep in her arms.

Robert closed the door behind him and looked at her somewhat curiously. Her cheeks were bright pink and her eyes shone in a way he hadn't seen since – well, since the night Theodore decided to make his appearance. "Cora? Are you alright?"

In answer, she leaned up and kissed his mouth eagerly. Then she said, "Yes. Very much so." She stepped back from him and rubbed Theodore's head gently. "Say goodnight to your son, darling. He's going to sleep in his nursery for the first time tonight."

Staring at her, Robert opened his mouth and closed it again in surprise. "He is?"

Cora nodded, grinning. "It's all been arranged. Hazel will stay there with him, and when he gets hungry she'll feed him from a bottle."

"Are you sure that's wise?" He took Theodore from her in order to kiss his forehead and cheeks and watched him grow even drowsier, a yawn escaping his tiny mouth.

"She'll use the same formula – that percentage method – they fed Sybbie before she got her wet nurse. And you see it didn't hurt her any. Besides, it's one night, Robert, and one that we need." She stood on her tiptoes and whispered to him. "I had my six week appointment today, and ever since Dr. Clarkson declared me completely healed, I haven't been able to stop thinking of you."

Her breath was hot on Robert's ear, and he closed his eyes, suppressing a sudden moan of longing. "Well, I suppose one night can't hurt," he conceded, opening his eyes again to take in her smirk. He said goodnight to his son, then watched as she exited the room with him to bring him to his nursery and leave him with Hazel. As he waited, he turned out all the lamps but one and sat on the bed, all of a sudden nervous. It had been six weeks. He hadn't even had the energy or desire to remove himself to the washroom in the middle of the night during this time – even though he knew Cora would have understood, and even encouraged him. Her obvious enthusiasm and yearning to be alone with him, to _be_ with him, however, already proved infectious.

Cora returned, shutting the door and leaning upon it, her face flushing. She lowered her eyes, unexpectedly shy now. She became aware again of the changes another pregnancy and childbirth had wrought upon her body. She'd not regained her pre-pregnancy shape and size yet, and it made her self-conscious.

Robert studied his wife for a few moments, wondering what she could be thinking. She looked… well, hesitant. He stood and went to her, putting his hand under her chin and gently lifting her head so he could look into her eyes. "Cora? What's wrong?"

Sighing softly, Cora gazed at him searchingly, knowing she was being silly. But she told him anyway. "I'm afraid you won't like the way I look," she whispered.

"Apparently you haven't seen me ogling you in your bath lately." He grinned, then turned serious when she tilted her head at him, her face begging him for a solemn answer. Letting his hand slide up to caress her cheek, he kept his eyes upon hers and said very softly, "Cora, I have never thought you anything other than beautiful. Your beauty radiates from here –" here he put his other hand to her chest, over her heart – "and the fact that you've just given me another child…." His voice faltered, and he blinked back tears. "I love you. All of you. And I always will," he whispered.

Cora watched his face as he said these things. She knew he meant them. Every last word. "I love you, too, Robert. Always." She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, touching her lips to his gently, tentatively.

Robert slipped his hand from her cheek into her hair and his other arm around her waist, crushing her to him as he deepened the kiss. It seemed no time at all before she was encouraging him to walk backwards toward the bed, undoing the tie on his dressing gown and sliding it from his shoulders and onto the floor. Her deft fingers worked at his night shirt, fondling his chest between buttons and causing an acute reaction below his waist. Soon he was twitching her dressing gown tie loose and pulled back, astonished that she wore nothing beneath it. "My, you did plan ahead, didn't you?" He chuckled, then held her at arm's length, his eyes meandering up and down her body, the bulge in his pajama bottoms proof enough of how much she affected him. She blushed again, but didn't lower her eyes this time. Instead she smiled and slowly lowered the dressing gown down her shoulders, teasing him. "Oh God, Cora, don't," he pleaded, suddenly bounding forward and applying his lips and tongue to her neck in such a way that she couldn't help crying out gratefully.

Finally, all their garments scattered on the floor, Robert laid Cora tenderly upon the bed, venerating her with his gaze, his touch, until she was panting and begging, "Please, my love, please. I need you so much."

Fitting his body between her legs, he rested his weight upon his elbows and brushed her hair back from her face. "I need you too," he whispered.

As she pulled his head down to kiss him again, he entered her slowly, gently, not wanting to cause her any pain. Pausing, she said softly, "Robert, I'm fine, I promise. Please…." She punctuated her statement with an upward thrust of her hips, causing him to groan deeply and apply his lips to hers once more as he moved against her in a deliberate rhythm – both steady and tender.

Robert endeavored to pour all his love for her – this exquisite creature, this strong woman, his amazing wife and mother of his children – into his actions. He wanted to truly make love to her; if he could make her feel even half the love he felt for her, then he would be the happiest man alive.

Cora's hands roamed over his body; her fingernails scratching down his back, her fingers threading through his hair and squeezing his buttocks blissfully. She panted and sighed and begged him for more. She kissed his lips and face and nibbled his earlobes and suckled his neck. And, after a while, she arched her hips up and pressed herself against him, breathing heavily, her eyes closing in ecstatic joy, a loud, lusty cry rent from her throat. She felt his hands under her behind and his own breathing quicken for a few luscious moments before he, too, cried out and fell against her. She reached up and cupped his face, kissing him tenderly and then resting his forehead against hers. "I love you, Robert," she whispered, happily exhausted.

Opening his eyes and looking into hers, unmoving, he continued to pant, but whispered in return, "I love you, too, Cora." Once he'd gotten his bearings back, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled them onto their sides, their foreheads still touching. "Beautiful, magnificent mother of our children, wonderful wife who puts up with a stubborn husband." He chuckled wearily.

"Oh, Robert," she said, reaching one hand down to pull the bed clothes over them. "I couldn't imagine being happier with anyone else."

Robert smiled widely. "I should hope not," he murmured, his eyelids growing heavy.

"Let's sleep, darling. Perhaps we'll wake on Theodore's schedule, and we can have another go." Cora continued to caress his face as they fell asleep in one another's arms, utterly contented.

Sometime in the early morning – after another tumble in the middle of the night – Cora dreamt again of children. There were seven in all. They held hands and grinned up at Cora and Robert in the orange-gold dawn. Four girls and three boys who were chattering and laughing, and who then went off to play together, splitting apart into groups. The two eldest girls wandered into the gardens, bickering, nevertheless clasping their hands together tightly. The youngest children – two boys and a girl – approached Robert and Cora, holding up their arms to be cuddled. The two remaining children – a boy and a girl – started down the path away from Downton, waving to the rest of them. Cora felt her heart hurt when she saw them leave, but she knew they would be alright. They'd be taken care of. And she turned to the three in front of them, knowing it was their place to take care of these little ones.

When she woke, Cora focused her eyes upon her husband's in the early morning light. Robert was stroking her hair and watching her face. "You're smiling," he whispered.

"Yes. I had a dream. I had a dream that we'll all be alright. Whatever happens. Because we're family, and we love one another." She smiled even wider and leaned forward to press a tender kiss to his mouth.

Robert smiled in return. "We will, darling. Despite everything, we have so much to be grateful for. And I give thanks for you most of all."

Cora touched his face, beaming at him. "And I for you." She kissed him again, then drew back. "Let's go spend the morning with our son, Robert."

"I think that's a marvelous idea, my love."

And so they did.

* * *

Orange: "enthusiasm, warmth, energy, balance, vibrant, demanding of attention"


End file.
